


Two Young Fools

by Rocketstar



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Sex, Awkward Romance, Blood, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Body Horror, Boys In Love, Character Development, Coming of Age, Crystal Gems, Cute, Dark Magic, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Drama, Dysfunctional Family, Falling In Love, Family Drama, Family Issues, Fantasy, First Love, Flowers, Fluff and Angst, Full Moon, Full Shift Werewolves, Gay, Gay Male Character, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Kissing, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Themes, Long Hair, M/M, Magic, Mild Gore, Mommy Issues, Novel, Ocean, Oral Sex, Oranges, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, POV Third Person, Pain, Plot, Romance, Romance Novel, Secrets, Self-Hatred, Slow Romance, Small Towns, Sweet, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Werewolf Reveal, Werewolf Turning, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-12 21:46:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 27,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28767285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rocketstar/pseuds/Rocketstar
Summary: Following the story of Two young fools through growth, love, confusion, and lack of control, within a supernatural world.Everett Porter is a young teen who is entering adulthood. In desperate need to take control of his torrent life, he flees from his isolated home to a small fishing town of Logwood Bay in hopes to start a new. Along the way meeting another teen named Ash, who will change his whole perception of himself and his feelings.
Kudos: 4





	1. Rusted Tin Can

**Author's Note:**

> hey, this an original story, I will be updating as I go. I created this world of magic and fantasy. this is for fun, but I still love feedback. rated M because of the events that I'm planning a little later on.

“It has a sweet aroma. A sharp, fresh scent that seduces my senses. Leaving me craving it's everything, and without any hesitation, I take a bite.  
It stays on my tongue; it lingers, it infects me. Stinging my nerves and tingling down my throat. No matter how hard I try to strip this. The taste will forever stain—Your bitterness.”  
Chapter 1 Rusted Tin Can  
The day is just waking. The glimmering yellow sun shines bright, peering over the mountains to say its well wishes. Leaving the sky, a lovely shade of indigo, with smears of Violet and Golden honey. A watercolor masterpiece painted by nature. Below is the most beautiful ocean. A large fertile rippling mirror of dazzling brilliance. Framed by a row of slick jaded rocks. Standing tall like brittle crystals, unaware that soon they will be tumbled smooth by the oceans might.  
A mosaic path that guides his way. The pronged evergreens, the lapping waves, the whistling winds, and his desperate desires, all leading him forward. Gripping the squeaking leather steering wheel of his beat-up silver clunker. He can't help but smile at such a scene in hopes of making a life here, attempting to blend in like a speck of dirt on a pure white silk sheet. To finally make something out of a pile of unfinished, abandoned pieces. Duct taping them together if he has to and smothering them With every ounce of his youth. To create a man out of a tragedy. To leave the confines of his past. To do more than survive, to do more than exist. To live.  
The radio is broken and only plays static, so he's forced to hum his own tunes. Everything he's worth is shoved in the back seat, obscuring his already groggy vision. Fortunately, few people drive this way; if that wasn't the case, he was sure he'd be quite a hazard. Right now, the only concern is staying awake long enough to make it into town.  
His tiredness is flashing in and out, like the beams of light that dance on his dashboard. He left early, without much thought. If he stayed one more day, he had feared his father's health. His father would never stop to try to fix him. To fix his wounded wings that are coated thick with oil. His old man began to suggest abhorrent things, desperate to correct a mistake not even made by himself.  
He couldn't do it anymore. To stay one more day in that haunting house. Filled with ghosts and ghouls of their past. To spend another moment looking at his mother's blank expression, conjuring up the syllables to spit out I love you, is too much to bear. He was worth more than his parent's desperate attempts at normalcy. At least he believed so. His leaving forces them to strip away from their tiny house in the middle of nowhere and to the city to get the proper care.  
He planned it out so well, yet he panicked and ran when it came to the final act. He was waiting till he turned 18 but feared just another two weeks would be too long. Maybe it was the unbearable heaviness of these boulders that weighed on him, or perhaps it's the embedded happiness of the idea of being a new person.  
In Logwood Bay, the humble people don't know him; they don't know his sickness. Some may know his father's desperate pleads, their good friend's Labour, but they don't know him; they don't know Everett Porter.  
The young boy turned the corner off the main road. Rows of houses instantly greeted him. Logwood Bay is a fishing town; it's small and isolated, with only an estimated 5000 residents. As its name suggests, it has a large Bay that houses a few fishing boats. These boats are important, as they gather a staggeringly large quantity of fish. This product can sell for a pretty penny and is sold to fancy restaurants and butchers in the next few cities. This business is booming and can be seen as the main reason this little town stays afloat. It's a gorgeous town, small in size but large in sight. There's a haziness to it, almost haunting, but in a calming way, like a lullaby. A pallet of rich earthy tones that have been smeared with navy blue. A town carved from a palace of nature. A perfect place to escape.  
It's silent, which he was not surprised about. He glanced for a second, off the road to look at the busted stereo—4:58am. The day was young, and the streets were bare. Not a person in sight. He bobbed along the road, further into town, he began to pass quaint mom-and-Pop looking shops that littered the side of the tiny streets. Imagining what the sidewalks, storefronts, and crosswalks would look like if filled with pedestrians, residents, and patrons—a busy little town filled with busy little people.  
However, he wasn't interested in the townsfolk, nor their little businesses. The young, fresh-faced boy only had one thing in his slated mind, and that was the docks. He glided down the wavy road, bumping to a stop once he reached the water. Parking in what he could only assume was an appropriate spot. The beat-up car came to a shaky halt, rattling violently before going silent. It was the entrance to the docks. Slightly to the side was a small plain-looking building that appeared to be an office. He jiggled the keys out and stuffed them in the pocket of his Sandy-coloured corduroy jacket. He unbuckled, allowing the seat belt to swing off his body. Collapsing back into the car seat. He let his head flop against the headrest, taking a deep breath, which was interrupted by a yawn. His shaky hands made their way to his temples, massaging them slightly, before sliding them up and pushing his messy fluffy auburn hair out of his face. A relaxation that didn't last long. Within minutes his body tensed up again as his mind floated back to the matter at hand.  
He was determined to find anyone. He was peering out, his eyes jumping from window to window and mirror to mirror. However, he could only see so much with all his crammed bags stacked high in the back seat. It left him no choice. It took a few good pushes to jam the driver's seat open. Swinging his left leg out and pushing himself up, he instantly felt a tingling sensation creep its way down, numbing his toes. A rather unpleasant feeling, yet there was something that filled him with joy. A victorious experience solidified by his quivering legs. It took over 2 hours trapped in that crammed vehicle, just himself and his cluttered consciousness. Battling his heavy eyes and revolting thoughts. Confined to an endless catacomb of self-destruction.  
He stammered to where the parking lot's gravel ended and where the edge of the docks began. Gleaming out into the dazzling ocean view. Lost in its endless glisten, a glassy sheet of its relentless hunger. He allowed himself to breathe. Stretching high into the crisp morning air and taking in the moment.  
Everett Porter had a tall stature, long slender limbs that towered over most. He had broad shoulders that he didn't fill out, a lankiness that is common in many teens. There's a stiffness in his joints that makes him lumber, but there's a cautious aura that makes him skittish. He had an overall awkwardness that pulsed from his entire demeanor. His warm fawn colored skin with a gentle peach glow paired perfectly with his fluffy unkempt auburn hair. Bushy eyebrows framed his heart-shaped face and a larger upturned nose with an affectionate smile. Everett had a sweet and comforting appearance, the type that many seemed drawn to. The only thing that abruptly disoriented his warm sunniness was his eyes. Not in shape, they were large and round with thick straight eyelashes, but in colour. They were a piercing cool gray colour with flecks of soft amber. Fierce, aggressive eyes that ironically didn't match. He stood with a lazed poise, frightened by his own height. Unable to register his own surroundings, he was inevitably a clitz—a young man attempting to navigate his own awkwardness.  
He could feel the cool air fill his hazy lungs. Clearing them of all his toxins and creating a freshness that he craved. The sun was finally drifting above the mountainous horizon to warm the early July day. His meditative mind was interrupted when he heard the slam of a vehicle's door. Swinging his head in the direction of the sound, he noticed a tiny black car, and beside it, locking up, a shorter lady. She didn't pay much attention to Everett, to the point it appeared she was avoiding even acknowledging him. He watched her as she trotted past him and to the front door of the little office. He took a deep breath, keeping it in his lungs, as he approached the woman.  
"Hello," Everett said in a calm tone, trying his best to seem friendly. The woman was in the process of opening the door but stopped with a sigh. She turned to face his direction, looking up and down. She was a short woman, petite in her frame. She appeared to be in her 40s, by the fine lines that littered her face. She had a short blonde bob that framed her delicate features. She stood with a sour expression; her bright blue eyes emphasized by her precise kohl eyeliner. After a moment of silence, the woman rolled her eyes, turning back to the door, key in hands.  
"I don't have any change on me, sorry," she replied in a monotone expression. Everett squinted his eyes, confused by her response. He had been exhausted from leaving so early and was trying his best to stand, let alone process anything in a timely fashion. He was wearing a baggy pair of light wash blue jeans ripped at the knees. Cinched just above his hips with a thick black belt and a black t-shirt tucked in. Of course, he was wearing his oversized corduroy jacket and his beat-up tennis shoes that once were white but now stained pewter, which was in complete contrast to the women's neat and tidy ensemble: an elegant blouse and mid-length flowy skirt. Everett's eyes went wide, and his face flushed a deep pink.   
"No, no, no, no," I'm looking for someone!" he frantically bleated. The woman paused while tapping her nails against the metal doorknob, like the tic of a clock. She huffed, shifting towards him again, her eyebrows raised high.  
"who." she bluntly spat.  
"Doretha Miller." He announced. There was silence; even the crashing wave and screeching seagulls lay tranquil. The woman's face softened. Her shoulders relaxing, letting her hands fall to her side. The keys gently jostled as she did. She stood pondering, her tongue resting on one side of her cheek. Everitt stood restless, his thumbs gently twiddling impatiently. After a few moments, the woman straightens up, pushing her short blonde hair behind her ears, about to speak.  
"Is the door jammed again?" A deep groggy voice interrupted. Both Everett and the woman directed their attention behind them. There stood a stern, sturdy fellow. The woman let out a smile.  
"Tom, good morning, actually I was just chatting with this young man here." She explained, gesturing to a confused Everett. Her tone had completely changed, along with her mannerisms. The man looked at Everett, subtly examining the boy. His eyes seemed focused on the old worn-out corduroy jacket he was wearing. Beat up in a few places, like the hem and cuffs. It fit Everett quite strangely. The shoulders were close along with the length, but everything else was off. He was swimming in the body portion, so much so, that the coat all together made Everett appear larger than he was. Only with subtle movements did it reveal he had a much thinner frame.  
The man's gaze climbed up to meet Everette's. He was shorter than Everett but much more solid. He stood with strength and poise. He had a square face with dark, piercing eyes. A long straight nose that slightly hooked down. He had deep bronze skin with light russet undertones, and his long slick black hair striped sliver was brushed back and tied in a low pony, around his almond-shaped eyes, where heavy bags. Like the woman, this man appeared to be in his 40s, maybe even a bit younger. However, unlike the women, this man had a charming disposition. Everett let out a large smile, accepting the stranger's acknowledgment.   
"Everett Porter," he introduced to the older man. The man looked at him with gritted teeth, his head slightly nodding. A faded glimmer twinkled in his dark eyes, mimicking that of a child's amazement. Without hesitation, the man sauntered over and passed the other two. Pushing open the wooden door, he let the woman scurry in, glaring at Everett as she passed. The man made his way through as well but propped the door open with his other hand. Gesturing Everett to follow.  
Inside was the same plainness as the exterior. Off white coloured walls with reddish wood flooring. A few potted plants were scattered around, and a random assortment of pictures in non matching frames hung randomly. The woman had settled behind the front desk, flipping through a large stack of paper. The door gilded closed. The man continued to walk without saying anything, the floors squeaking with each step. Everett followed, trying his best to keep up without seeming rushed. They went behind the front desk, where another room was tucked away. This room seemed more personal, photos of smiling faces and odd little trinkets all around. The man plopped down with a deep sigh. Not a sign of tiredness, but one of relief. Taking a moment to settle into the wooden frame.  
"You're looking for Doretha Miller?" The man asked, peering up at Everett, who was standing under the doorway. He nodded his head. The man let out a slight chuckle.  
"I'm her son, Thomas Miller," he said, straightening up. Everett's eyes grow wide, unable to contain his smile. He had never met Doretha, but she was described as the woman who gave his family some hope. If it wasn't for her, Everett didn't know what would have become of him. An uncontainable feeling bubbled inside him. The man couldn't help but sense this excitement that oozed off Everett. The man pursed his lips.  
"She died."  
Everett stood shocked, unable to respond. He tried to conjure up a sentence to apologize but was left smacking his own lips together in desperation. Thomas didn't seem phased, instead, he turned his attention to a set of drawers beside him. Rummaging through its contents, and pulling out a small coiled black notebook. The cover was weathered and scuffed, the pages deformed and stained.  
"Don't be too alarmed; she died about a year ago." Thomas casually reassured. He began flipping through the little book, his fingers running down each page and skimming the text. Everett's eyes seemed to wonder, focusing on the tweed carpet at his feet. Devastated that his carefully calculated plan was crumbling each second. A plan that mostly relied on Doretha and her influence. Since she had a history with the Porters, he genuinely believed she was the only one to listen. Everett's face grows more somber, an empty, vacant hole engulfed his chest. The stinging sensation of defeat. However, Everett remembered why he was here. Remembering why he traveled so far in a beat-up rusted tin can of a vehicle. Away from his parents, who's love began to lay thin. Two empty shells that would do anything for their child, even lie about their own feelings. Leaving like a coward, when it was still dark, a scribbled note soaked in tears of his youth, remembering the pain that still pumped through his damaged body. Knowing if he whimpered back like a dog with its tail between its legs, claiming he was wrong, meant he accepted staying. Staying on living a life depended on his sick father and his shaky hands. To be dependent on someone who's body can't handle it anymore, questioning if he ever could. It meant he gave in to being nothing more than that tragic night that claimed him a reliability. Everett took a deep breath, gently raising his gaze up and towards the other man. Thomas had slipped a piece of paper in between two pages of the closed notebook, extending his arm out to hand it over.  
"I know your father, I worked with him and his friend often, I know why he got the job, I know about you," Thomas explained in a soft hushed voice. "It's all written in here, on these pages, all my mother knew." Like a man approaching a stray with food, he had a calming tone. And despite the kind gesture, Everett already knew every word written in that little book, told, given, and sworn by his father.  
"I want a job." He bluntly stated. Refusing to take the notebook from a dumbfounded Thomas. The little room's air grew thick, two men juggling a cumbersome situation. Finally, after what felt like forever, Thomas's face had gone stern. He sat back, lowing the book and gently fanning it as he collected his thoughts.  
"I know your father can't work anymore-"  
"This is for me," Everett interjected. "This has nothing to do with him."  
Thomas hoisted himself up and off the chair, stretching his body straight. Everett's eyes fixed on his every movement. Biting his trembling lip. That empty, vacant hole now solidified into a violent lead pit. Thomas moved without much purpose, his slow, tedious steps making their way towards either Everett or the door. He stopped right in front of the teen whose eyes were slick with hopelessness.  
"The boats should be back any moment; we'll find you something to do." He stammered past Everett, leaving him alone in the unfamiliar room. A slight chuckle came to him as he reached his hands into the pockets of his worn corduroy jacket and took a moment to relax, accepting this heaviness as comfort.


	2. The Stranger with the Evergreen Eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second part, I hope you're enjoying it. Thanks so much.

Chapter 2 The Stranger with the Evergreen eyes  
A soft gleam creeps slowly along the hazy morning. The sun finally revealing its bright yellow smile. The ocean bleeds a salty familiar fresh scent, a crisp awaking to a summer's day. Everett stands awkwardly outside, leaning against the plain white office building and facing the ocean. The warm sun kissing his golden cheeks and stinging his flickering eyes. Thomas directed him to wait while the boats docked. There were two boats, both around the same size. Big enough to house around a handful of crewmates, but still small enough to nestled Into the docks of the little bay.  
Everett stood motionless for a while, watching as a group of people piled out of one of the boats and fastened it to the docks. There were a few moments of banter, fooling around and laughing. A few inside jokes exchanged, a few crude ones to rebuttal. For the people who worked and lived here, it was just a regular productive day. However, it didn't take long for their wandering eyes to focus on Everett. Hushed chatter buzzed within the group. Speculation proved correct by Thomas. Everett heard his name slide out of his mouth, then be passed along, emphasizing Porter. Emphasis on his father, but Everett was far from shocked. His father did work here for a little bit. His father, a stubborn man, hiding behind determination. A natural speaker Who articulated his words to benefit himself. A man who cared less about others emotions. A father who was willing to do anything for the people he loved. A good man, but a selfish one.  
Thomas casually swayed back to where Everett was, blissfully unaware at the glaring eyes that peered right behind him. Everett let out a smile to greet him, amazed at how a few people could feel like a stadium. All eagerly anticipating him being torn and devoured by a starved lion.  
"Here's the plan," Thomas calmly explained to Everett. "I don't have too much for you to do today, but you can help out cleaning the supply shack." Thomas pointed past the office, further along, the docks. There stood a few little beat-up multi-coloured buildings all snuggly sat. He pointed to the navy blue one; it was tiny, decrepit, and overall sad. He reassured Everett that it shouldn't take long since someone was working on it in there, and he would come to grab him in an hour or so once he finished what he needed to do. Which just affirmed to Everett that he wants him to not be in the way.  
Everett parted ways, gently pacing himself towards the shack, careful not to slip on the slick wooden surface. It wasn't too far, so it took him no time to reach. It must have been no bigger than a common living room. A navy-blue box of chipped paint and rusted windows, and with a large gulp of air, he squeaked his way in, ducking through the low door frame. A dim tungsten light lit the entire space. Unaware of the low shelf hanging above the door, he stood up straight, slamming his head in the process. That, paired with the slick ground, made him tumble down to his knees, spilling a bucket of fish hooks and lures along with a clutter of other stuff.  
"Shit! Are you okay?" a strange voice called out. A young man popped his head out from the corner previously hidden by a large cabinet door. He came rushing over.  
He let out a huff, slouching down to meet Everett's gaze. He had such pale skin. A fair, cool complexion contrasted with his dark, thick straight hair, a jet-black colour that softly shifted and ashy blue. He had it tucked behind his ears, and it fell just past his jaw in jagged tuffs. Puffed on the top like he had constantly been pushing it up and out of his face. He had a longer face; structured, young, and rather handsome. A strong long nose and defined lips. A shadow of stubble dusted his upper lip and jaw.  
There was a laid-back swagger that ironically didn't verge on cockiness. His emotionless face gave out a simple clue at his mood, a slight curl to his parched lips, A slight squint to his already drowsy fox-like eyes, examining but casual. His cool complexion was ruined by those eyes of his. He had such comforting eyes. A rich Evergreen colour, warm and inviting, he could soothe an aching soul with one stare.  
His upper lip flickered as he extended his arms, inviting Everett up. Everett gripped tight, allowing the stranger to pull him to his feet. Stumbling slightly as he anchored himself. The stranger was far from Everett's stature but not short. His baggy overalls were pushed down to his hips, a fitted gray shirt underneath, revealing his slightly triangular figure. He was thin with a narrow waist and hips but solid with a broader chest, wider back, and a strong stance.  
The two young teens shared a lack of muscles, both at that awkward stage of manhood. The stranger examined a wobbly Everett, his arm still out as preparation if he fell again. A flush of red fluttered onto Everett's cheeks, embarrassed at the whole ordeal. The stranger let out a slight chuckle, rather engaged with this tall teetering teen.  
"We should really put a sign on that door," the stranger jokingly grinned, showing a row of straight white teeth. After assuring Everett's balance, he slid his hands to his side, resting one in his pocket and leaning his weight on his left leg. Everett was ecstatic to see another person, besides Thomas, treat him with an ounce of decency; he bobbed his head slightly as he reciprocated the friendliness.  
"Can I help you with anything?" The stranger asked while breaking his eye contact. He shifted his focus on the mess Everett had made. Picking up the assortment of big-eyed wobbly lures and different sized hooks. Chucking them back in the bucket with a plop. Everett bent down, slowly, cautious to not lose this already unpredictable balance.  
"Don't bother," the stranger barked, seeming more concerned than annoyed. Everett's hands flung up as if he had been caught with sticky fingers.  
"I'm sorry, but I'm supposed to help." Everett winced. The stranger squinted his eyes and cocked his head. Everett gave another forced smile, lowering his hands. the stranger's face went back to that blank expression, pushing the bucket, so it was between each other.  
"Ash," the stranger said while carefully piling the mess in the bucket.  
"Everett-"  
Both teens explained the situation at hand. Everett on what Thomas told him to do, and Ash on the beat-up shack's current state. Everett scanned all around, muggy and dim, with a faint soggy odor. It was crammed with shelves, all piled high with fishing equipment. It looked like Ash had been working on the supply shack for a while now. Cabinet doors open and cleared out, all their contents spilled and sorted into neat piles, heaped in the middle of the tiny room. Ash directed Everett to the left side while working on the right. Facing away from each other, they began to organize. Zoning out as they went, Ash humming a soft tone.  
Everett smiled at the atmosphere, calm, collective, and free. Focusing on work instead of his own internal dialogue allowed him a sense of freedom not previously explored before. Such a hectic day finally slowed to a beating pulse. After a while, the dim light grows brighter, the musty smell, breaths fresh, and the company of a stranger feels familiar.  
Ash had a way of communicating without speaking much, only saying one-word responses. He had a monotone voice; it had a dull drawl to it that felt calming. The same feeling that carried out to his whole demeanor. An underlining coolness that was infectious. Drawing in a person to learn more. His voice was contagious, a higher pitch while still sounding masculine. It mimicked that swagger that was found in his posture. It contrasted to Everett, who couldn't help but chatter. Bubbly and warm, with a slight hiccup to it, yet still deep and brass in some spots. He spoke quick and somewhat choppy, often tripping on his own syllables. Cautiously thinking aloud before rephrasing the sentence again. Ash couldn't help but laugh at Everett's attempts at casual conversation. A mass wave of information that felt lost in translation. An in-depth instructional on how to shear a sheep.  
Before they both knew it, over an hour had passed, and the cluttered room was starting to feel less claustrophobic. Everett peered over to Ash, who seemed content at the process, a gentle smirk on his parted lips. He stood up and brushed the dirt and grime that had collected in his lap, creating a puff of dust that left Everett coughing. With a big stretch and yawn, his focus went to a small towel he had previously been leaning on. He reached his hand out towards it without bending in any way and concentrated. A faint blue's spark hissed from his fingertips, and a soft wave of blue smoke trailed up his arm—the towel flinging towards his hand for him to catch. The aura disappeared as he began to use the cloth like any other regular towel. Wiping his hands and arms with it. He then noticed a stunned Everett. A moment of silence rang throughout the room as Ash's eyes flickered from the other teen to the towel.  
"It's a hallucination," he lied, peering at Everett with threatening eyes. Everett jumped slightly, shaking his hands back and forth in front of himself, attempting to spit out anything to explain the mystical spectacle that just occurred. His lips fumbled over each other as Ash's piercing eyes glared down at him.  
"I know," He panicked, not wanting Ash to feel bad for revealing something normal to him. Everett quickly snapped, a gentle flame of vibrant blue radiating from both his index fingers. Shining a cool glow that illuminated the teen's bright flustered face. He quickly closed his hands after he knew the stranger had received the message, extinguishing the flame. Ash let out a slight chuckle, his shoulders relaxing.  
"Nice party trick."  
There was a sigh of relief from both teens. A mutual understanding that they both knew and had magic. Magic wasn't common, but it was around. People who possess it often try to stay in groups together as a unit or family of sorts. Some choose to outright use magic all the time, while others try to hide it. Although it should be known that it's not knowledge to the common population despite It always lurking around. There is a high population of magic users in this little bay town, with the majority either knowing about it and a high amount having it. The humble people of Logwood rather not focus on the complex systems in place when it comes to magic and how it's regulated. To live their simple lives without the impending pressure of the supernatural.  
"You shocked me; I was worried," Ash explained, pushing his dark hair out of his eyes.  
"I'm sorry, I just don't often see people use magic so freely," Everett apologized, stumbling to his feet. Ash nodded, apologizing as well for the startle. Everett was trying his best to read this new stranger. A person who felt like a friend yet someone so foreign. He felt attached to his presents. He wants to understand this new person. Although Everett did know that his kindness could be nothing more than politeness. Everett was extremely uncomfortable being around people, especially people he didn't know. It was something he wasn't too familiar with; he spent most of his life at home growing, learning, playing, and living in a small house in the middle of nowhere. He only ever really knew his parents and his father's good friend and his family. A kind person with such an open heart, willing to give and support a penniless man who built a family 6 feet under. It wasn't that Everett didn't enjoy the life he lived there; he remembers it well. A little ways out past Logwood Bay, when suddenly all the trees seem to disappear, and a flat sea of grass blankets the earth. A Successful farming area, yes, but not a lot of people. He remembers the good times, the smell of the cut grass, the warm breezy air filling his lungs, and kissing his peach blushed cheeks and nose. Being young and free, full of no worries. Right beside a little farm filled with cotton candy sheep and lazy marble cows. Running Around with his neighbor. The good friend's daughter, Ava. She was the same age, a clever girl, outgoing, bouncy, and joyful. She had a round face, deep eyes, and frizzy, curly hair.Robust like her father, but beautiful like her mother, and now so distant. How incidents can leave people scrabbling to scrape up shards, so tiny it might as well be considered sand.  
Ash opened the door wide to the sunny morning. The brightness fulling the tiny shack, blinding their weeping dust-filled eyes. They ducked past the shelf and through the door frame. The realization of how freeing the wide-open abyss was. The day had finally begun. The jolly canter rang all around. The busy beeps of cars could be heard just up above, along with the fragments of multiple conversations echoing throughout.  
"Everett, I'll see you tomorrow then?"  
He turned around to see Ash heading the opposite way. Everett was just going to stumble back to his car to wait for Thomas, who was taking longer than advertised.  
"Maybe?" he nervously chuckled.  
"If not, Find me, I'll be right here." Ash smiled with a wave. Everett couldn't stop but be captivated by his eyes. Such caring eyes. Deep yet light. A constant swirl of green gripped him by his soul, pulling him into their endless void. Ash turned, bobbing along the docks away, leaving Everett alone with such a strange feeling.


	3. Sandy French Fries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This Chapter is slightly longer than the first two, hope that's all good

Chapter 3, Sandy French Fries.  
There's nothing more important than trust. It seems like a simple concept in theory but difficult to execute in existence. It requires you to let go of every pre-existing notion ingrained within yourself. To dig your fingernails into your sensitive flesh and rip it wide open, allowing your full vulnerability to be on display. To trust someone with something you don't even trust yourself, that's even harder. Trust is something Everett never thought about. It was something he just had to do. He never got the choice of who to trust, nor did he choose who trusted him. Not many, he wholeheartedly believed, not any, if he was frank, yet at this moment, he is conflicted with that very predicament, trust.  
While waltzing along the dank wooden boards of the dock, leaving behind a stranger, he came across the very person he wished to meet. Thomas was heading his way towards the little shack. He looks more tired with a slanted grin and crooked eyes than he did just a few hours ago. He was holding a large wooden crate. Awkwardly adjusting his grip every few steps. His golden skin was radiant from the vibrant sun. He lumbered along till he met Everett, who was lighter than air.  
"Sorry I took so long," Thomas slumped while fumbling with the wooden box. His mind seemed preoccupied, but alas, he came With good news.  
"I found you a little place to stay." He smiled. Everett's large slate gray eyes went wide.  
"I didn't say I needed a place!" He curled his lips, juggling his weight from side to side. Thomas tilted his head.  
"You got a place then?" he asked with a brass monotone voice. Everett retreated into himself, shaking his head. He was elated at Thomas's forethought, yet overwhelmed at the situation altogether. It shocked him that such a person would be willing to help a stranger. It was true that they had some connections, but it was just a mere frayed thread compared to how Thomas was treating him. Everett had only heard good things about the Millers. Strong people who were willing to give to those they don't know. Whether it was empathy, sympathy, or pity, it didn't matter.   
Dorothea did the same with his father. He didn't know exactly how it happened that day, only that he came back with a face full of hope, something that he had left without. Liam Porter was trying at least, willing to reduce himself to bagging at the knees of a stranger. Everett couldn't really judge, wasn't he doing the same?  
Thomas fished a little piece of torn paper from his worn-out jean’s back pocket. Anchoring the crate on his knee while he did so. Everett quickly scooped it from his hands, so Thomas could hold onto the box correctly. Opening up the crumpled torn paper, he saw scribbled in a blue pen, 1616 Marigold Lane- Harriet Whiteman.  
"It's easy to find it's on the corner of the main road," Thomas explained. He apologized for not showing him, but he didn't have the time. Thomas was slumped with work, which made sense from what Everett saw; he practically ran this place. Thomas went to leave, swaying along with the weight of the crate. Everett frantically expressed that he could do more work, but Thomas wasn't blind. He could see those dark circles and heavy-set eyes that tainted the young teen's complexion.  
"Come back tomorrow morning around 8:00." Thomas sternly smiled with a quick head nod before turning back and leaving. Everett huffed but was somewhat relieved, he felt his body rock with the waves, like a gentle crib, feeling the urge to close his eyes and rest. The quick morning's adrenaline was starting to wear off; he could feel his feet were starting to get heavy.  
He quickly stammered off the docks, his feet crunching in the gravel before he got to his beat-up soup can of a vehicle. It started with a clunk and tinkering away up the steep hill and onto the main road of downtown. A few more people occupied the little street, and a few shops open with excited little buyers. 8:45am, the start to a sunny summer's day.  
It was almost inevitable that Everett would get lost on a straight street, but after a few too many uncomfortable U-turns he finally found the place he needed to go. All the more embarrassing that it was part of the stores he passed just hours previously. A little shop nestled beside a few other shops, with painted brick walls and large glass windows. Above looked to be more space, hinting at housing. 1616 Marigold Lane was hung above the door, X marks the spot. He opened the door and was slapped in the face with an overwhelming sensory overload. Like a magpie’s nest, the shop was cluttered with a multitude of stuff. Shelves of books and pottery, scarves and other fabric laid, and hung every which way, a cluttered, scattered disheveled, mess. There were even little bags of teas and herbs but what was the most prominent was the jewels. Gems and Crystals everywhere. Tossed around on display shelves and even hanging up from the low ceilings like twinkling multi-colored raindrops. There was also an unusually large number of mirrors littered all around, even when it didn't make sense for them to be there. The floors were concrete but a large shag rug in splotches of earth tones covered it up. The walls once a light coffee colour now adorned with all the abhorrent number of knickknacks. All dazzling shades of jewel tones glistening like a slick oil spill. The shop had everything but an owner.  
Everett looked around but there wasn't too far to go. The shop was empty beside himself and a small grey cat. A pretty cat that was daintily napping on a plush Merlot pillow right by the cash register. Everett tried his best to tiptoe to the sleeping feline without startling her. She almost looked like a kitten in how small she was. A pretty face, elegant, royally even. She was slumbering like an ancient goddess, her hair a blueish grey with no markings, short, with an emerald green collar that had a cluster of stones attached to it. Once Everett got close enough, he noticed a note, it had caught his eye, tucked away under the cash register. All it said was, “Mr. Porter, door on the left.” On top of the note lay a small regular key. He slipped the note out making the slightest of sounds but that was enough. The small cat stretched awake, yawning, and kneading slightly. She took no time to search for the source of the sound. Spotting Everett she peered up. Instantly startled she arched her back, hissing violently at a cringing Everett.  
Everett sighed picking up the small key, paying no attrition to the furious feline. He looked around for a door but didn't see anything. He searched for a bit, even moving a few mirrors to see if perhaps a door was hiding underneath. Finally, he noticed a little staircase at the back of the shop, which was the only other entryway besides the front door. He ducked down under all the hanging strands of beads and fabric, bumping a few wind chimes that serenaded him back. Up he went. As he ascended, it made more sense now that the shopkeeper wasn’t there, because the cat was watching the shop. The little cat was a Familiar or an animal with magic. Everett wasn’t always the best at noticing Familiars. They don’t talk but he heard you can communicate with them. They weren’t some special breed; they were simply just an animal that possessed magic. They had some advantages, some disadvantages, the same as a human with magic, but an animal. The little gray cat was more than capable of taking care of the shop. Although this wasn’t the reason, she hissed at him rather it was because that’s just what cats do around Everett. It's something he has just become accustomed to at this point, it doesn't really offend him anymore.  
He stumbled up the stairs till he reached a little island with two doors on either side. One on left 1616 A and one on the right 1616 B. He glanced down at the key and jostled it in the palm of his large hand, examining it for a second before finally committing to slipping it in the door lock. It opened with a creak. He entered with some false gusto, inside was a rather bare room, a box of a space. The same light coffee walls and a sandy-coloured carpeted floor, a similar shade to his jacket. On the side closest to the street was a small wire bed, it had sheets but no bedding. Beside it sat a tiny beat-up nightstand with a small alarm clock and a medal desk lamp. On the other side there was a small section that technically could be classified as a kitchen and another door that had the tiniest bathroom Everett had ever seen, but really, he didn't care too much. There was something comforting about the tiny box with low ceilings. He flopped onto the bed with a loud creaking sound, his intentions to give his aching legs a break but his heavy eyes gained weight and his body seemed to melt into the thin mattress. Before he knew it the whole space around him was dark.  
Beep, beep, beep, beep.  
Everett's eyes shot open. He was lying on his back, spilling over the tiny cot. A frantic feeling of desperation as his foggy mind fathoms where he is. Like making a straight impact with a car and tumbling down a grassy Knoll, quickly stumbling back up to reality. His mind is groggy, his eyes stinging, he smacks his lips together a few times to moisten his dry throat. A large pounding sensation overtaking everything.  
Beep, beep, beep, beep.  
The alarm Clock on the tiny nightstands screams again, a banshee wail in his ears. Everett swings his arm over haphazardly hitting the plastic in hopes to stop it but to no such luck. It forces him to sit up grabbing the clock so he can clearly smash a few little buttons on the side, finally it shuts up. The clock reads, 7:30. Everett’s eyes blinked a few times, still half asleep as he attempted to organize all his wandering thoughts into one coherent stream.  
“I closed my eyes for a second,” he groaned, lifting himself up to look out the wide window above him. Out on the street it looked to be fairly bare sight. Only a few pedestrians walking about. It didn't appear that he had mistaken day for night, confirming the alarm clock was right. Finally, it occurred to him, he had slept for almost an entire 24 hours. Slumping back down on the bed, he began to rub his burning eyes with the palm of his hands. He hadn't gotten much sleep in the last little bit and he was more susceptible to prolong sleeping around this time, however, he had never slept for an entire day. honestly, it probably did his body good, that overwhelming feeling was laying low in his gut agai, instead of bobbling dangerously close to the surface. Another panicked feeling emerged.  
“Thomas,” he yelped, he had forgotten that he had to go to the docks to meet Thomas again. He didn't want to be late, nor did he want him to think that he was taking his gratitude for granted. The docks weren't too far away, and he was certain he would make it in time but he would have to leave now. He quickly went to stand up and immediately he felt the shaking within his leg, then a shooting pain trembling up and ricocheting within himself. It forced him back down, he bit his lip, massaging the source of the pain. His left upper thigh, his damaged leg. He had tried to ignore how weak it had been yesterday; he knew he overdid it with the long car ride. “This stupid leg,” he though to himself. Damaged from that foreboding accident. Perhaps, if his leg wasn't damaged, he could forget about that inconvenience that leaves him dry heaving with lingering lots of astronomical terror. If only his leg was the only issue.  
With more preparation Everett attempted to stand, leaning all his weight on his right side. Successfully he got up. He then started to lower to the other side, it was painful but manageable. He toggled along through the little room, peg legged and dreary. He made his way down to the stairs, Although it took a significantly longer time. He was expecting to see the shopkeeper, but again nowhere to be found. He didn't have time to think he just continued to hobble his way out the door and to his beat-up car parked on the edge of the sidewalk, pulling out in a hazy dissonance.  
Bumping along the same road he followed yesterday. focusing on his breaths, as he made it to the little office building just a few minutes past 8:00 o'clock. Thomas was already there, he stood stiff, but his eyes were bright against his weathered face, a sternness to him, but it didn't feel unpleasant. Everett slipped out of his vehicle, which was parked in the same spot as it was yesterday. Crunching along the gravel with a slight limp. Thomas made a soft smile once he noticed the slumped over Everett slowly making his way to him.  
Once over, Thomas expressed that he had just gotten there, and Everett made it in perfect time. Everett felt his breath that had been lying like a lump in the back of his throat slowly start to deflate. Beside Thomas was a few crates that were stacked up similar to the ones he was struggling with yesterday. Everett creased his brows shifting his eyes from the cargo to Thomas, however he didn't have too much to worry about.  
“I'm gonna have you work in the office,” Thomas expressed, patting his hand on the teen’s shoulder, “I hope you don't mind it'll just be the two of you today Sunday isn't busy.”  
Thomas opened the door, holding it wide for Everett to shuffle in. Like yesterday there wasn't anyone there, except the person at the main desk. The blonde bobbed lady. Her eyes squinted the moment Everett entered the room. She was fixed on him, her lip slightly curled up like she had smelled something vile. She sat like a poised Lioness watching her prey. She slid her perfectly manicured hand under her light-coloured bob, flipping it behind her ear and then turning back to her computer. Everett’s eyes shot down staying low as he continued to walk inside.  
Thomas set him up at a little desk In the corner of the main office. It was less of a desk and more just a chair with a TV tray. There was a large stack of papers beside him that he was instructed to sort through. It was nice because it kept Everett busy, though he was somewhat disappointed that he didn't get to see the stranger again. The one with the dark hair, Evergreen eyes and laid-back attitude. “Ash, that was his name,” Everett thought to himself. A smile came to his face and something just felt nice about that name in his mouth. Though he felt like a kindergarten who was latching on to the first kid that expressed any interest.  
Time seemed to trail away and Everett felt more comfortable in his new position. The blonde haired lady stopped staring now, only glaring over every once in a while her fingers that had been so diligently clattering away on the keyboard now fell silent. She pushed back her chair making an unbearable screeching sound, like that of a fork against a tin can. She stood up puffing out her pleated skirt. She sauntered over to the door, she took out some keys from a bag that was hung on a hook by the front window. Everett tried his best to not focus on what she was doing and continue on his work, but he felt his eyes start to wander to the petite person thrashing about. She opened the door slightly slipping most of her body through till she paused for a second rolling her eyes in the direction of the “preoccupied” teen.  
“Take a 30 minute break but you better be back before I am.” She Instructed, while finally slipping completely out. Everett blinked a few times at the door. He couldn't help but chuckle slightly, he had noticed about an hour ago that he was getting hungry. He knew it wasn't good, but he couldn't remember the last time he had eaten. It must have been a few days back, but nothing was sufficient. He didn't have much money but after convincing himself that spending $5 or so wouldn't kill him, Everett stood up. Completely forgetting about his tender leg. It throbbed the moment he stood up, making his knee buckle, and his muscle’s tense, while his teeth gritted. He wobbled along the wood floorboard to the front door. Wondering what he could afford for food his mind filled with a wonderful selection of assorted cuisines all likely out of his budget. Everett made it outside and he was about to enter his car.  
“Everett?” a strange yet familiar voice asked. Everett shot his head back. He was correct. It was the teen from yesterday standing casually, looking unbothered. His raven hair was brushed back, half up in a messy tangle the other laying briskly on his shoulders. It showed off his face clearly. A thin face with softer cheekbones and an angled jaw. He truly was handsome, almost pretty. His eyebrows were dark like his hair and in a prominent arch. Thick curly eyelashes framed his rich drowsy eyes. He was wearing a baggy T-shirt with some unknown band and a pair of straight faded black jeans, ripped, torn and frayed, and a pair of flat black boots somewhere between a combat and work style.  
Everett tucked his face down again as he looked rather disheveled wearing yesterday's clothes. Ash raised his eyebrows at the gesture. He was holding a large to go cup and a Brown paper bag with large grease stains. The smell of fried oil humming in the air.  
“That was your name?”  
Everett nodded his head, Ash let out another faded cocky smile. Though it’s hard to tell, his face lay pretty stiff. The dark-haired teen lifted up the bag sloshing it around slightly, asking if Everett was on lunch break. Another nod. The boy let out a slight smirk again, lowering the bag.  
“If you're not too hungry I ordered fries, but the worker gave me a large by accident,”  
Everett could feel his stomach rumble at just the thought of oily crispy spuds. In any other circumstance he would have refused but he couldn't really fight with his demanding stomach and empty wallet.  
Ash led him to where he normally eats a little further down the opposite way from the docks. Where the grass meets the rocky beach. Everett was trying his best to keep up. This particular beach had a high tide, so it was full of a mixture of stone, gravel, broken shards of bark and the odd Patch of sand. Nothing like the beaches on the glossy pages of magazines and television screens, this was hard to walk on. It was practically just filled with Barnacle covered stones, which is why Everett was surprised to see a bench so close to the beach. Located right near a patch of course brown sand, not a lot and more of a mixture of half sand, half gravel but still sand. Ash sat one resting on the arm rest, and the straw of his drink hanging leisurely out of his parted lips.  
Everett lowered himself onto the bench. There was a beautiful view of the twinkling ocean, But he was quickly brought back by the crinkling sound of the brown paper bag. Ash looked over at him, fry in hand. Like the finest gold a divine specimen. He brought it closer to his mouth, the same soft way he had his straw. Just resting in his parted lips, he took a bite. The two strangers’ eyes locked on each other. Before Ash pulled away shaking the bag towards the hungry Everett. He smiled excusing himself before delicately picking up a fry with his fingers.  
“It's nice,” Ash said with a soft hazy voice.  
Everett nodded while nibbling on the first piece of food he's had a long time. Ash let out another slight chuckle, chomping down on another.  
“It's nice that you're here,” Ash stuffed the other fry in his mouth.  
“Why's that?” Everett asked. Ash slid himself back on the creaking wooden bench.  
“I'm the one who works here that's below the age of 30,” he replied.  
Everett really only saw a handful of people, all a little older. The image of the bobbed haired lady fogged his mind. Shaking his head to get rid of her sour face. Focusing back on Ash who was staring out into the cheery afternoon. Everett slumped down a little more, following Ash’s lead.  
“How old are you then,” Everett softly inquired. Ash let out a slow breath, his mind at ease. Everett was right in his observation, when the dark-haired teen replied by saying he was 18 turning 19. A year older than Everett whose 18th birthday was seeking up.  
“Thank you,” Everett stuttered.  
“What for-”  
“The food and just being nice, it's the first time being on my own,” Everett expressed in a bashful voice. Ash rolled another salty fire around in his fingers. His focus now on the fried food watching as the salt gently flicked off before slipping into his mouth. On his index figure was a bulky ring. Silver and well maintained. It was of a bird from what Everett could tell. It was the head of the bird and the neck created the rest of the band. Detailed carved feathers where Intricately around. The head up slightly the beak parted and in the middle of the eye a deep Emerald coloured gem. Everett’s eyes locked on it before it despaired once Ash lowered his hand.  
“So, we're even.” He joked.  
“I guess so,” Everett laughed back. He felt like he was chatting to an older friend. What he believed it would feel like to chat to an old friend. You could listen to him for hours. Every single word articulated in a way that was rich with opportunity. The two boys completely devoured the large bag of French fries, Everett could eat more but he was feeling content at the moment.  
“Ash?” A soft voice sang out. A strange voice, delicate and youthful. Ash didn’t flinch; his expression stayed completely the same. Hurried footsteps clattered beside the bench. Everett gently turned his eyes in the direction until slowly shifting the rest of his head.

It was a girl. If Everett had to guess, he thinks she was around the same age, maybe a year or so younger. She was pretty but in a normal kind of way. Lanky build with narrow shoulders and hips and rather thin. A soft round face, full cheeks, and round eyes. She had long, light brown hair that flowed down her back. Mostly straight but gently puffed here and there, especially around her face. She was glowing in the warm sun, like Golden Amber.

"Jenny needed to talk to her mom, so I thought I'd say hi," she smiled large, rocking back and forth, her hands behind her back. Ash was facing her now; he just nodded, didn't say much.  
"I wish I knew you had a break. You could have come and eaten lunch with us," she kept that same glowing smile on her face. She seemed sweet while she tried to keep the conversation flowing. A few awkward seconds had passed, and her doe-like brown eyes seemed to trail to Everett. Her smile seemed to fade slightly. This caught Ash's intention, who turned slightly back at Everett then back to the girl.  
"Everett," he abruptly spoke, introducing the silent teen to the girl. The girl shot back to Ash the smile tightened back to its original form.  
"Oh, Amanda"  
Everett adjusted his weight; the girl wasn't even looking at him.  
Ash turned back to the front, facing the water again, to the girl's dismay. She then decided to pay more attention to Everett, who avoided eye contact by fiddling with the crinkling paper bag.  
"It's good to meet you. I haven't seen you around here before. Are you Ash's old friend?" She asked politely.  
Everett smiled, his fingers still meticulously playing with the oily paper bag. He took a deep breath and swung his head up—a smile to match the girls.  
"It's nice to meet you. I'm his coworker,"  
The girl and Ash were taken aback; her eyes widened, and her mouth loosened at Everett's confidence. In a way, it made her more puppy. She seemed to feed off the sunny atmosphere that had been created.  
"Mandy!" Another girl called out, everyone seemed to swing their heads in the direction of the yell. Another girl ran down the path from the docks and up to the bench, with a huff.  
She was short but still had long features and was athletically built. She was stunning. Long sunny hair that bleached out as it went further down, a slight fringe that framed her delicate face and bright blue eyes. The kind of girl you would imagine being extremely popular. Though she had this mean girl look, it was completely contrasted by her attitude, a smile so large it felt awkward, and a bubbly giggle that was contagious. The two girls made quite a pair. She looked at Ash then looked at the other girl, Amanda, and her smile turned to a teasing smirk.  
"Sorry, I gotta take her," she giggled at Ash, Amanda's face flushed crimson, while Ash looked unbothered.  
"Okay, let's go. My mom should be back at the office by now," she pulled on her friend once more; Amanda waved goodbye before they both hurried away to the docks.  
"Odd?" Everett thought, extra odd, that he knew it was only him and the bobbed hair lady. She surprisingly looked like the blonde girl, almost like it was her mother.  
Everett's eyes went wider than they ever had before; he shot up, not even focusing on his throbbing leg.  
"I need to go!"  
"Okay," Ash said, rattling his almost empty drink.  
"I'll see you again," Everett paused.  
"Yeah, of course," Ash replied.  
Everett went to hurry back, hearing the soft chuckle and smirk of Ash behind him. He was trying to go as fast as he could. Leaving behind the dark-haired stranger and awaiting his own demise.


	4. Tip Toeing on Cobblestone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, sorry this a little later than usual, I was working on school work. I hope everyone is enjoying it. please feel free to let me know what you think or any feedback.

Chapter 4, Tip Toeing on cobblestone  
What is pain? Is it just a response made up by our brain due to a physical or mental inconvenience? An alert that is beeping through our pulsating veins. Urgent messages to draw our attention to pesty paper cuts or cumbersome scraped knees. A realization of our mortality. Perhaps pain is nothing more than a restriction. Our bodies accepting defeat, how much we can handle, or our fragility. Maybe it's our bodies admitting to understand our humanity. Humanity is a question Everett always hid away from. Thought it lays, lingering there, in his mind like the throbbing in his leg. Human?  
Everett paced his steps carefully as he made it to the little office building. His hand jittering for the door handle, then retreating. He did this a few times until his hand finally latched onto the warm metal knob and his clammy determination decided to push on forward. The door swung open rather violently, his eyes like ping pong balls and his upper teeth digging into his lower lip. The bobbed haired lady was there.  
She paid him no attention. Instead, chatting to the same 2 girls from earlier. The blonde-haired girl slumped over the front desk, a wide grin and desperate eyes. The other girl, Amanda was a little further back, her arms crossed into themselves, hiding her hands, her head down but her eyes up, a soft smile flickering on her face. The bobbed haired lady sat at her desk, her eyes rolling at every word the blonde girl said.  
"Mom, please, we'll be back in time, I promise."  
"You said that last time, and I was waiting over an hour." The bobbed haired lady sharply responded, her eyes focusing on her computer screen. The sunny blonde girl made a dramatic sigh.  
"I told you, that was Dan's fault, not mine."  
"Jennifer, I said what I said,"  
"mom-"  
Creek, Everett stepped his way through the door. The three turned their heads, a front-row ticket to Everett's entrance. His face went pale, accentuating the dark heavy skin around his cool gray eyes, large and glassy.  
"I see you don't follow directions well," the bobbed haired lady sneered.  
Everett apologized while squeezing his way back to his seat in the corner. He sat, quickly getting back to his sorting. The room had gotten quiet. The sunny girl that Everett, now known as Jennifer, had her eyes plastered on him, Amanda's eyes darting around, avoiding his direction altogether. However, Jennifer seemed far from accepting defeat.  
"Your Ash's friend!" She claimed, Amanda uncurled her arms, promptly telling her to stop. Jennifer didn't, she instead leaned up from the front desk, a casual giddiness to her. She pursed her lips into a smile and slanted her eyes. A warm softness highlighting her fairy-like features. She recited the encounter that just happened prior in a few words or less. Noting off the features that she remembered of his, his Auburn hair, out of control and messy, his dusty jacket and his piercing eyes, but most importantly, he had sat with Ash. Her monologue was interrupted with another thought.  
"Too bad Ash is still working." She spoke Loudly, articulating her consonants and clearly pronouncing her vowels. Amanda stood a little further away now, facing the door, hiding away her flushed face by pretending to be entertained by a rather boring framed photo of a grassy hill with some grazing cows that was crooked on the stained wall.  
"you two are ridiculous." The bobbed hair lady huffed, her fingers clattering on the keys more violently.  
"Maybe we can wait till he gets off; he could give us a ride to Well's Beach." She spoke with the same enthusiasm. Her eyes grew strangely wide, fixating on Everett's reaction. Everett just sat with clenched teeth and upturned eyebrows. The bobbed haired lady let out another huff, brushing her hair behind her ears, her bright blue eyes like that of a startled owl, her face red.  
"That boy is nothing but trouble," she hissed. Jennifer finally turned away from Everett and back to her mother.  
"Well… if I had a vehicle, I wouldn't need to ask him."  
The bobbed haired lady stopped typing, her top lip gently flickering, sneering at her daughter. The woman paused for a moment before reaching down under her desk, slipping the rattling keys up and slamming them in front of the girl. She wasted no time. The sunny girl swiped them up, jumping back and quickly making her way to the door. Her mother warned that she better not be late this time. Jennifer brushed her off, grabbing Amanda by her hand and slipping out the front door, leaving the room cold and quiet.  
The woman took a deep breath, flipping through papers and turning over documents, muttering to herself. Everett gently tapped his foot to the tune of the AC's hum. He observed the woman while trying not to be too obvious about it. His eyes darting back and forth. The women seemed to settle down. She was back to her typing. Everett assumed that was all and attempted to get back into the meticulously sorting routine.  
"You're not special; I'm like this to everyone I meet," the bobbed hair lady interrupted. She didn't face Everett; she stayed in her current position at her desk. However, she finally introduced herself or revealed her name to be Laura. Her high pitch voice had a bitterness to it that echoed through each syllable. Although she never sounded mocking, almost distinctly sincere, it didn't mean what she was saying was any less harsh.  
"I know you're new, so I'll grant you a warning, I wouldn't get too involved with that Ash kid." She rasped. Everett sat cramped. His knees up and fiddling with a document in his hand, feeling like a small child being lectured.  
"Honestly, I don't know why Tom hired him, a delinquent if I ever saw one," her voice seemed to trail off as Everett's mind wondered. Ash seemed to be an odd person, like a hum, always there but never present. Though it didn't help him in this current moment, and before he knew it, he was back to filing papers and reviewing documents. Luckily, his day went by fairly fast. It was bland today, repetitive but in a way that Everett enjoyed, to a degree at least, and with that, the day was over. Laura collected her stuff while bossing Everett to do the same. Everett was about to leave when Laura stopped him. She had forgotten to tell him that Tom made a timetable for his shifts. Thomas had left for the day already, but she printed it off. Unfortunately, it was sent to Tom's office instead of the main printer, but no big deal; Laura just told him to grab it then lock the door behind him.  
Everett filed his way into the little office, the same one he was in when he talked to Thomas the first time. At that time, he hadn't even noticed the rather large desk taking up most of the left side. Beside it, the printer, with a freshly printed off sheet of paper, still warm. With that, Everett was about to be on his way when he noticed something that caught his interest. The little black notebook, on top of the file holders. It lay limply, one corner hanging off. Everett didn't lie when he declared knowing all the knowledge hidden away in that little notebook, or he believed he did. He had never seen it written down, only ever told to him through another person, that being his father or their friend. Thomas had offered it to him, would it be so bad to accept the offer now, while he wasn't present? Everett shook his head, promptly heading to the door, but with a little too eager of a step, a shooting pain ragged up his leg.  
A terrible one, so bad his toes felt numb and tears welled up in his eyes. He balanced himself, though the option of failing and heaving on the floor was tempting. It didn't last long, and he could stand properly again. With that, he turned his head, eyeing the little notebook. It had been over two years since his father worked here, surely there had to be some new content. He swiped it with no thought, tucking it under his arm inside his jacket, so it wasn't visible. Leaving just as he entered.  
He locked the door and made his way outside, Laura was already gone. It was around 4:00 pm now, and the day was getting chilly. About to make his way into his car, he noticed a familiar silhouette. Juggling on whether to approach him or not, Everett chose the former. Crunching up behind the dark-haired teen. He stood looking out at the water, one arm tucked under the other. His free hand hovered close to his face. Unaware of what he was doing till a soft puff of smoke slithered its way out of his mouth and into the hazy air around him, the sweet smoggy stench of cigarettes. Ash finally turned around a small cigarette butt between his fingers and pursed against his lips. It took him a moment to register, but once he realized it was Everett, he let out a faint smile. One final huff before letting go of the tiny burned-out cigarette, allowing it to drop to the ground, grinding it in with the heel of his boot.  
"I hope I'm not bothering you," Everett smiled back. Ash shook his head, slipping his fingers into his jean pockets, resting his thumbs out. "I just wanted to say bye before I headed for the day,"  
"Are you done then?" Ash asked.  
"I am, and you?"  
Ash nodded, again and Everett joined him, shuffling his feet between the gravel. He was unaware of why he even came up to him. Was it just to say goodbye? But he enjoyed his presence nevertheless. Everett let out one more nod before turning to leave. Lifting up his hand, one last gentle wave.  
"Are you free tonight?" Ash bluntly asked. Everett froze, turning back to him. "As in, do you want to come with me to grab a bite?" Everett gleamed slightly but quickly remembered his lack of money. A face that resonated with Ash.  
"It's my treat,"  
"you already treated me today at lunch," Everett asserted.  
"That was nothing, plus this can be like a welcome," Ash explained.  
Everett went to protested some more but felt compelled by the stranger's charm. Ash seemed genuine in his stance. Everett felt ecstatic that his company was even wanted in the first place. Ash gave him quick verbal directions. Lucky it wasn't too far off from where Everett was staying, so he had a scene on where to go. He described it as a little building and easy to spot. Without wasting time, the two teens hopped into their respected vehicles, Ash's only slightly nicer looking than Everett's. Everett felt something fall onto his lap while lifting his arms up to grab the steering wheel. It was the notebook; he had completely forgotten that he was hiding it under his arm. He really had no time to think. He quickly stuffed it in this passage glove compartment and screeched out of the parking lot without any further distractions.  
It didn't take long to make it to the diner, and as Ash promised, it wasn't too hard to find, even without some basic understanding of the area. It was small. However, quite a few cars littered the parking lot. The building, a deep blue colour, "The Blue Sunset Diner," was written on the sign out front. Already parked and waiting was Ash, leaning against his beat-up black speeder. Casual confidence that was captivating but immediately fragmented and scattered once he noticed Everett.  
He lifted himself off his bumper to meet Everett. Nudging his head forward, he turned to guide him into the little restaurant. His hair was different from earlier. He had now had it completely up and tied into a messy knot. A few pieces awkwardly resting on his nape, but something else stood out. On the left side, underneath was a white streak, verging on a grayish colour. It stood out immensely against his black hair.  
Ash walked with a type of gentle poise, an elegant glide. His posture was perfect as well, straight, and tall, proud in appearance, with a naturally delicate frame. The complete opposite to Everett. He would drag his feet, distracting others from his obvious limp. Both teens made it inside. The little diner was rather packed, surprising for such a small town. There was a monotone hum of people chattering, which was overpowered every once in a while, with bursts of laughter. People of all ages sat in leathery black booths. Large and small groups huddled with cheeky grins and perky attitudes. A young woman stood behind a wooden podium at the front entrance. Her black curly hair was tied back with a bright blue scrunchie. She looked up, her dark eyes scanning up and down the two boys. She pulled out two large menus from the podium, and with a smile, asked, "table for two?" however it wasn't to Ash, even though he was clearly in front. Everett stood there, paused for a moment until he finally nodded to answer the young woman's question. Ash's face was flat as she led the two to their table.  
Sat right next to the large window, which was the perfect spot to peer out at the bright blue afternoon soon to be evening, in a corner that made all the chatter seem just a slight bit quieter. Everett couldn't help but let a smile creep onto his face. An expression that wasn't overlooked by Ash.  
"Enjoying your time in Logwood?" he asked. Everett blinked out his daydreaming and looked back to Ash.  
"I am. I don't remember the last time I went out to eat," he responded. Everett looked youthful, a softness that shined through. Relaxed shoulders that gently swayed from side to side. Ash fiddled with the menu, his figure tracing the edge of the page. He was alert, leaning slightly forward, inviting the teen to continue.  
"It's nice to be on my own," Everett expressed softly, the light glimmer that dances in his pale silver eyes stood still. His smile desperately trying to stay. Ash placed the menu down, catching Everett's gaze.  
"I was like you,"  
"how's that?" Everett snickered.  
"I was new; people liked to make up things about me, my past, all that nonsense they still believe, doesn't bother me, and it shouldn't bother you." Ash let out a hint of a smile. Everett looked down for a moment, hands on his lap. He took a second before responding.  
"it doesn't bother me." Ash raised his eyebrows.  
"Rather, I enjoy it," Everett continued. This must have been amusing since it garnered a genuine laugh from Ash. Everett joined him with a chuckle. Ash's jadedness softened; he leaned his elbow on the table, his chin resting in his palm. Everett cheerfully explained what he meant in the best way he could. Explaining how he stayed at home for most of his life, he didn't know too many people. Perhaps he was naive to think that the world wasn't all cruel, a prominent example being this little town. He could see sparks of hope, in the stares and gossip, in the hearing of his name, in the kindness or pity which allowed him his boring job, or the friendliness of a stranger. He was excited that people were making things up and trying to understand him because it meant they weren't focusing on who he is. No matter how Everett looked at it, he was happy to be here. He was happy to start over.  
Ash's face softened, his grin disappearing. His face had slightly scrunched up from him leaning on his hand. A blank expression that quickly pursed as he picked himself up to Everett's eye level.  
"and you believe this?" he inquired.  
"of course!" Everett defended.  
At that moment, the same lady who had greeted the two teens and brought them to their table now stood with a pen and notepad in her hands. Surprised, Everett quickly glanced over to where she was standing before, now a different person hosting. She wasted no time with the usual, "may I take your order" spiel. Everett looked down at his unopened menu, searching for his words. It didn't take long for Ash to jump in, quickly spitting out a random order that Everett didn't have time to process. However, Everett just allowed the mystery of it by ordering the same. The women scribbled down the orders, her previous gleeful face replaced with dreadful deadpan directed at Ash. With that, she had left.  
"Do you know her?" Everett cautiously asked. Ash shrugged slightly.  
"kinda, not really, her name is Mariah; she's good friends with Jennifer."  
"and Amanda!" Everett jumped in. One of Ash's eyebrows raised.  
"Did I get her name right?" Everett coiled back into his seat.  
"Yeah, you did; it's just Amanda's different than all of them." He said carefully, choosing his words wisely. Ash explained how he met Amanda. It was about two years ago. He had just gotten his job at the docks, only been working there for about a month. He saw her a few times, but she didn't say much. Over the next month or so, she would continue to linger around the docks, still never really speaking to him. It wasn't until Jennifer started to show up that she finally introduced herself. Ash explained how she doesn't really talk to anyone besides himself and Jennifer. They had invited him to a bonfire once. It was with Jennifer, Mariah, Amanda, and a few other guys. Amanda stayed close to him and didn't say anything, not even to the people he assumed to be her friends. She shows up a lot like how she did today, and she never really bugs him, so he doesn't mind her.  
Everett was surprised to hear this about her, she seemed outgoing when he met her, perhaps a little standoffish, but he assumed that was normal. Though Everett thought she sounded sweet, nice, and overall a well-rounded person, maybe someone he would be able to get to know better. He felt like he was getting to know Ash better, and he only knew him for a little bit, so maybe the same will happen with Amanda. Everett thought it would be nice to make another new friend.  
Mariah slumped back to their tables, the two matching plates of food in her hand. She flopped them down with not much gusto. The rest of the evening felt pretty nice, with some back and forth banter between Everett and Ash. The same kind of banter that they had in the little shack yesterday. Even though Everett led the conversations, he never felt like he was overtaking it. It was just small talk, but for some reason, to Everett, it felt as if he could talk for hours. Simple questions that should leave you craving more were decadent. Ash had a way of smiling that was so soft yet rich. The kind of smile that felt lackluster yet genuine. Everett had the type of smile that could light up a room, an expressive face that demanded attention.  
The two left the little dinar feeling full but not heavy. The sun had started to settle, diming the world slightly. It was still early evening, and the soft cool air felt refreshing after being in a stuffy atmosphere. Ash didn't go to his car right away, instead, he turned the corner to a more isolated cobblestone path behind the restaurant. Everett followed without much thought. It was a tight spot, nestled between a tall concrete fence and the side of the building, wide enough that Everett could move around freely but narrow enough that more than two people would feel like a crowd. Ash slipped down with his back pressed against the concrete slab. Squatting down while reaching into his back pocket. He pulled out a little box, a pack of cigarettes. He slipped out one, rolling it around in his fingertips before pointing it up to Everett. Everett nodded, sliding down the wall beside him. He gently grabbed the cigarette from Ash, placing the end in his mouth. Ash lit his lighter, a gentle flam dancing. He held it out, Everett leaned in, the end radiating a vibrant orange colour. Taking a deep breath in, Everett felt the smoke fill his body. A burning engulfing his throat and lungs, like gargling boiling water. He couldn't help it, his face flaming a bright red as he violently coughed, smoke exiting from his mouth and nose. Ash spat as he tried to hold in a laugh.  
"Why did you take it," he asked, wiping the tears from his eyes. Everett held his tongue out. His nose crimped, and his upper lip tugged up. Tears also lined his eyes.  
"I was curious." Everitt pouted. Ash took the cigarette from Everett, slipping it against his lips before holding it in his mouth. He took a breath, then let the smoke puff out his nose and into the air.  
"Don't be; before you know it, you'll be depended on them," Ash explained while still fighting back his laughter. After a moment of clarity, Everett joined in with a good laugh. The two shoulder to shoulder, using each other's weight to keep each other up.  
"Thank you," Everett softly expressed. Ash lumped his face down, shaking his head slightly. Rephrasing that there wasn't any need to thank him.  
"Thanking me makes me feel guilty," Ash frowned, his eyes squinted. Everett leaned back slightly, his shoulders down, matching the same expression as Ash.  
"I was nice to you because I understood what it felt like to be in your situation," Ash admitted. Everett just nodded. "Of course, you know that," Ash said while blowing out another puff of smoke. Everett leaned back more, anchoring himself against the wall to not put too much pressure on his leg as he stood up. A large smile lighting up his face, his hand held out to help Ash up to his feet. Ash reached out, his hand firmly grasped tightly, Smooshing the cigarette out on the cold cobblestone ground before making his way up. A slight trip once on his feet made him lean close to Everett, just a hairsbreadth apart from each other. Ash looked up at Everett.  
"I don't think that anymore," He smiled, breaking away and making his way to the exit. "well, are you coming?" Ash turned back; Everett jumped slightly before hurrying his way to Ash. The two walked slowly beside each other mimicking each others' steps before making it back to their vehicles.


	5. A Small Space, Filled with Nothing

Chapter 5, A small space filled with nothing.   
Everett's vehicle came to a screeching halt, bumping lightly against the sidewalk's curb. He got out quickly, this time with all the bags that were tossed in the back seat swung around his body and arms.  
It was getting late, but the bright summer day refused to give in to the passing time. The air was dim and cool like a soft lullaby. He wasted no time trudging up to the brick building. Trying his best to not lose his balance and topple over when opening the front door. Inside was the same overwhelming garish mess that he had seen previously, but this time one thing stood out.  
Sitting at the cash register was a slender woman. She was older, with long slick gray hair that ran all the way down her back. A pasty complex with blue eyes so pale they appeared colourless. She had slight features, mouse-like in nature, and her weathered face was plastered into a permanent Sneer. She didn't look up when Everett entered. Instead, she focused her attention on her needle, which was strung with a row of delicate, colourful beads. The tiny gray cat sat in her usual spot, watching the older woman's hands keenly as she strung more beads on the thin metal needle.  
Everett took a few steps in, the door brushing past him and slamming closed, making the windows shake slightly with the impact, but still, the woman said nothing. Everett took her gesture as a hint, readjusting his grip and huddling forward. He waded his way through the mass clutter that filled the tiny store. Weaving around tall over-decorated pots and outdated furniture and remembering to duck down to dodge the gaudy hanging fabrics and aggressive windchimes. He was about to reach the back door when the woman adjusted her weight on her wooden stool, creating a rather loud creaking sound.  
"I don't even get a good evening?"  
"Good evening?" Everett said apprehensively while turning back. The woman was still facing forward, away from him. She paused for an uncomfortable amount of time, Everett attempting to hold tight so his stuff didn't fall from his ever-slipping grasp.  
"You are the Porter kid, yes?" she hissed; her voice was like a whistle, high and aggressive, but Still breathy.  
"Yes, Everett."  
The small cat sat tense now, her eyes peering at Everett with such distaste it made the air stale. The woman's wrinkled ring-covered hand lifted up and rested on the little cat's back.  
"Karma doesn't seem to like you too much," her voice was much softer and affectionate towards the hesitant feline.  
"I'm afraid all cats have a distaste for me," Everett admitted in a joking manner.  
"Not a good trait to have for someone who possesses magic." The woman placed her needled down and slowly creaked back to meet Everett. Her brow was down, and her nose slightly crinkled. "Just call me Miss Whitman, and don't waste my time with any formal introductions. I don't care to know anything more about you,"  
Everett paused at the comment; fully aware of their eye contact, he broke away. Nodding at her request, and said nothing more. Her gaze was still locked on him as he turned and thudded up the narrow staircase. He fumbled with the key for a moment before finally slipping the door open. The room still had that warm stale atmosphere from before. Thudding his bags down, he slumped his way fully inside, welcoming himself back into his new little home.  
There was something calm about the tiny space, a quietness that felt unusual yet not foreign. Perhaps it was that it didn't feel forced. The stillness came from a lack of people. At the end of the day, It was just him. There was no need to talk, and that's what Everett enjoyed the most. He wasn't rambling on to fill the space and entertain blank expressions.  
He quickly tossed off his corduroy jacket and kicked off his worn-out sneakers. A thin layer of sweat lay slick, sticking his clothes to his skin. He wasted no time making his way to the small washroom. Just as he imagined, It was crammed, like stepping into a changing room. There was no room to move freely. He was either at the toilet, the sink, or the shower. His eyes trailed along with the stained tile before making their way up. Passing the outdated blue cabinets, then immediately confronted by a rather large streaky mirror that took up most of the wall. He was finally able to get a good look at himself.  
"Shit," he winced, "I really went to dinner looking like this?" His face was flushed red, his brows heavy with dark, large bags lining his sunken eyes. His fluffy auburn hair a tangled mop gently curling from the hot salty humid air. Wondering how Ash could even stand being seen with a mess such as himself.  
"What an odd guy," He chuckled softly.  
Everett quickly stripped, turning on the shower and hopping in. Accepting the icy trickle that made his hairs stand up and his teeth clench. Finally, the water turned warm, racing down and filling the tiny space with hot steam. He knew he shouldn't take too long, but something about the water's rushing repetitive sensation made his mind go numb. His eyes slipped close as he leaned into the water. The world around him went dark. Blotches of light dancing around his mind before fading into a few familiar faces. Like a heartbeat, they thumped into fruition. His dad, mom, Evelyn, and Eva's faces appeared all with the same expression. Eyes wide and glassy, wrinkled foreheads and gapped mouths.  
Have you ever seen such a face repeated on the ones you love? All staring at you, your own tears can't even wash away your crimson-stained body. His own tears can't wash away that night, because at the end of the day, it happened, and that face they make is because of what he had done.  
His dad, his mom, Evelyn, and Eva… and now a new face this time, took over. Dark raven hair framing a porcelain slender face. Bright green eyes, an endless stare that drew him in. Those eyes mocking him, yet they made him weak. Why were they making him so vulnerable? Everett let out a gasp pulling his face away from the warm stream of water and taking in the hot steam. Watching the clear water that ran over his body rush down the drain. He flipped his sopping hair back and quickly squeaked the water off. Trailing out and leaving soggy footprints.  
He got dressed, putting on a long t-shirt and a comfortable pair of joggers. The nights have always been colder around here, but something about being closer to the ocean gave it an extra punch that tingled the spine.  
His focus shifted to his bags, few in number but still better than nothing. He folded the few clothes he had and tossed them on the lone chair sitting patiently in the corner. Then he pulled out one worn-out pillow along with his mismatching comforter and threw them on his sad little bed. Next, he pulled out a few odd cans of soup that he had snagged from the pantry before leaving. He stacked them neatly on the narrow counter next to the oven. Rattling at the bottom of the bags were a few odd things, like his toothbrush, a fork, a couple bottles of pills, and an envelope filled with a few pieces of ID, and precisely one hundred and forty-five dollars. The room was still bare and looked even more pathetic than it did when it was completely empty.  
He sat down on the tiny cot, questioning if it would be more comfortable to sleep on the floor. The day was coming to an end, the sun leaving him alone with an unpleasant acquaintance. The large moon aggressively glaring inside uninvited. Even if he closed the blinds, it wouldn't make much of a difference. It would still be there, staring at him, mocking him. He turned away, slipping his knees up and tucking his head down. He took a deep breath, feeling his own warmth, remembering himself, his consciousness, his humanity.  
It didn't take long till his mind began to trail away. His eyes flickered up to the landline on the wall across from him.  
"I could just call them," he thought out loud, "tell them I'm okay?"  
But they hadn't reached out to him once, and it had been almost three days. The note he left wasn't some secret code. They knew where he was. What would he do if they knocked on that door? Would he be relieved? Or would he be panicked? They could scoop him up and take him back home so quickly. Maybe if he had waited the two weeks to turn that magic number of 18, he wouldn't have to worry. He'd be free, or a grown-up at the very least. His own person. Has he ever been his own person? Could he ever be? If they knocked on that door, they wouldn't have to scoop him up; he'd go freely. He would return home like a sad pup from the pound. Instantly regretting it, but it wouldn't be just him. They all would regret it. His father would continue fighting his own illness, watching his body cease as he grips onto a cure that doesn't exist. His mother actively avoiding looking him in the eyes, scraping up every last ounce of energy to force that pathetic smile. Two broken parents taking care of a broken son. All three of them pretending that they aren't terrible actors. All three of them knowing damn well it would have been better if he just died that night, then their morning would make sense. What a happy family they have become.  
Everett's hand quickly shot out, grabbing the corner of the nightstand, lifting himself up to his feet, and flipping it up. The tiny alarm clock and desk lamp cords tugging taught before they bounced back, tumbling to the ground. The nightstand whipped across the empty room, slamming on the wall, missing the landline only by a fraction.  
"ONE LITTLE FUCKING HAPPY FAMILY!"  
His brow lifted, feeling his face burning and his lip quivering. His vision began to get blurry as he felt warm beads trail down his cheeks and the distinct taste of salty tears reaching his mouth. His knees were weak. Light blue flames trailed up his shaky arms. The same flame engulfed the small side table that lay limp on the floor. He let out a trembling breath, trying to stay standing as he gave his hands a good shake. The flames disappeared immediately. He rushed over to the table and quickly began patting it to distinguish the flames. The only damage was from the impact. One leg dangling from side to side before falling to the floor.  
Inspecting the wall, he noticed a rather large hole where the drywall gave way, revealing the brick behind it. Luckily, he didn't use any magic. If that was the case, the damage would have been more severe. He tried his best to get the room back to its original state, but he wasn't in the state of mind to fiddle with the damaged table, sweeping it to the side along with the broken bits of drywall. The night was still young, but the throbbing in his head only worsened by keeping his eyes open. He flicked the lights off, the bright moon reflecting off the damaged wall. He pulled the cord hard, watching as the blinds whizzed down, leaving him in darkness


	6. Cold Coffee and Oranges

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the support not on just Two Young Fools but also on my other work as well, much appreciated. The next chapter is going to be extra magicy so stay tuned, I try to get a new chapter out each week.

Chapter 6, Cold Coffee and Oranges 

Beep Beep Beep Beep

Everett's eyes shot open, blinking a few times till his vision adjusted to the bright beams of sun that were peeking through the closed blinds. He was strung across the little bed, his legs flopped over to the side and resting on the ground. His head throbbing in beat with the repetitive beeping. He swung his arms over. Fanning the air, his hand waving up and down searching, but he couldn't feel the slick surface of the top of the clock. He paused, tucking his arm back to the side of himself. Quickly remembering, he pushed forward and slumped his way up, resting on his elbows. Peering down to see the sad beeping alarm clock and the crooked desk lamp, both toppled over and lying on their sides.  
Everett bent down, picking up the clock. It vibrated with each echoing beep, and with one push of a button, it went silent.

-7:24 am, "this clock has no rhyme or reason." Everett thought aloud. He stood up with a wobble, planting his feet down firm, so he didn't fall. Feeling the rough sandy carpet between his toes. He lifted his head, avoiding looking at the wall ahead of him. He shut his eyes as he stepped toward it. His arm reached out to guide him, Till he got close enough, his hand resting on the wall, his eyes tightly clenched closed, he began to peek.

"Dammit," he frowned, fully opening his eyes to confront the rather large hole in the drywall. His hand trailed down till it reached the edge of the damage. Everett pulled away, knowing that there isn't much he could do now to fix it at this moment. Though he thought the hole only added to the decor of the room.  
He quickly got dressed, noting that it already felt warmer than yesterday. He tossed on a light cream coloured short sleeve tee and a pair of dark brown slacks, a casual pair made of relatively thin material. They slipped slightly down, resting on his hips. He tugged them up, but they just fell again. He fished his black belt through the loops, cinching them up. He took a peek in the mirror. Dabbing his face with some water to wash the sleep from his eyes. His face was less sunken in than yesterday, his cheeks full with a gentle peach flush. But, his eyes were red and somewhat swollen, making his slate-gray eyes stand out even more. A few hairs were peeking through on his upper lip and chin. He ran his hand through his fluffy auburn hair, brushing through the few curls that had formed. Thinking that this is the best he's going to look today.

Breakfast was cold tomato soup, gelatinous, and served straight from the can. Everett took small scoops with his spoon, blowing a deep breath out before taking a bite. His teeth scraping against the metal as he pulled the spoon out, avoiding pressing his lips down. The tomato soup sat in his mouth for a moment, feeling the cold jelly wiggle on his tongue before squishing down his throat.

Ring ring ring ring

Everett paused, forcing down his bite with an Audible gulp before slowly placing the can on the counter and resting the spoon inside.

Ring ring ring ring

He took slow steps, sliding his feet across the carpet. His heart began to thump, hard and loud. The thumping had reached his ears like the pounding sound of thunder, quaking his body. His hands were tight to his chest.

Ring ring ring ring

He was facing the landline now, watching it shake with each ring, like the rattle on a snake. He reached for it slowly, his hand trembling as he felt its cool smooth exterior. The ringing now overtaking the thudding of his heart, he lifted it up to his ear. Clenching tightly as he waited for the harsh hiss to trail through.

"Hello?"

"Hello?"

It was a deep groggy voice, a familiar one.

"It's Tom."

Everett brought the phone closer to his ear and let out a sigh.

"Hi, what's up," Everett smiled.

"I know it's your day off, but I just need you to quickly come in today."

Everett paused. He had completely forgotten to look at the schedule Tom had made for him yesterday.

"No problem," he whistled through his teeth.

"It shouldn't take long." Thomas expressed. He hung up the phone leaving Everett with it still pressed against his ear. He stood there for a moment. His face was blank. No goodbye? Unsure what to make of it, he tried hard not to think about any implications. He placed the phone back, thinking he'd better go sooner than later. Avoiding his half-eaten can of soup on the counter and slipping in his worn-out, stained shoes. He was about to leave, his hand resting on the doorknob. When He turned around, staring at him was the corduroy jacket, tossed neatly on the lone chair. He could already tell it would be a hot day and it would only prove a nuisance. However, what if something happened? What if there was a fire? Or someone broke in? What if Miss Whitman comes barging in and notices the hole, furious she takes the jacket as a hostage? What then? Or what if, instead of keeping it captive, she destroys it? Burns it, cuts it up, tosses it in the ocean. What would he do if that happened? He quickly shuffled his way across the room. Slipping the sandy jacket on one arm at a time and then slumping his way to the door.

Everett took a step out, feeling something at his feet knock over, the sound like someone jiggling a bag of marbles. Peering down, he noticed something quite odd. Unsure what it was at first, he bent down slightly. "Stones?" He asked himself. There on the ground was a group of crystals, arranged neatly, except for the ones he ran over, of course. They were concentrated on his side of the platform, none of them on Miss Whitman's side.

Everett took a step, being careful to not knock any moreover, but he wasn't able to take a large enough step. Tapping a tall jaded looking one with the heel of his shoe. It toppled over with a clicking sound, taking a row of other tall crystals with it. Like dominoes, they fell to the ground. He stood there staring at the mess he had made for a moment, the urge to fix the destruction he caused, but his feet shifted, and his legs took him down the stairs.

Miss Whitman wasn't in the shop. It was empty with just the clutter of stuff to welcome him up. He shifted his way through the maze that was the store floor about to make it outside.

"Shit!" Everett cursed, quickly jumping back. Sitting on the display case next to the door was the gray cat. She was alert, her tail swaying from side to side and her eyes fixed on him.

"You scared me," Everett chuckled. The cat kept staring, stiff as a board, except her tail.  
"karma? That's your name? yes?" He asked calmly.

The cat didn't seem to react to her name being called, too focused on staring at Everett.

"Do you understand me at all?" Everett asked, to no reply.  
"if you do, I'm sorry, but I need to go." He reached out, opening the door, the cat's head slowly following his movements, till he was outside. Peeking back and seeing her still glaring from the shop window.

The car trotted along the windy road. The dock wasn't too far away, so the drive was quick. Everett coming to a shaky stop. He slipped out of his vehicle, stepping into the warm breezy morning. Thomas was already waiting for Him by the front door of the office. His arms lose at his sides and his stance stern. His long hair was tucked behind his ears and tied in a loose low bun, showing off his robust features.

"You got here fast."

"I was already ready when you called."

"You okay?"

Everett was hunched over, his hands in his pockets and tucked close to his side. He shifted his feet in the gravel.

"Just tired," He smiled.

Thomas opened the door with no further questions. The two made their way into the stuffy office. Inside, Everett was surprised to see a few new faces. Laura was still at her, thrown at the front desk, but behind her, two other women diligently working away and another at the back fiddling with the fax machine. They all didn't seem to pay attention to Everett and Thomas as they entered and approached the front counter.

Laura peeking her gaze up. She slipped a stack of papers down in front of the two, her eyes darting to Everett.

"Get them back to me fast," she demanded. Her fingers trailing off the page and back to her computer.

"Forms and weavers, typical job stuff," Thomas informed.

Everett looked down at the stack of papers below him, his shoulders relaxing slightly.

"Try to get them all in by the end of the week," Thomas added. Everett nodded, picking the stack up and quickly flipping through the pages. Although he was too tired to understand any of it. Thomas was trying to describe each one to Everett, but his voice merged with the fan's hum. Everett nodded every now and again, bobbing like the head of a bobblehead toy on some poor intern's desk.

Thomas slapped his hands together, Everett jumping slightly at the sound. The women not even flinching. "Okay, that's all," he announced. Everett took it as it was his time to go. Everett went to leave, but Thomas quickly stepped in front, walking him out, slipping past the door and back into the early morning sun. Clearing up to be a rather hot and humid day. Everett went to leave, but there was something that kept him still. Thomas stood close, his eyes peering from side to side then back to Everett but not saying anything. His mouth slightly parted but quickly snapping back closed.

Everett slowly stepped down the few steps and into the gravel, peeking back as he left Thomas by the door. He thought that was it. Everett getting to his car, his hand resting on the flat gray roof. The stack of papers under his arm and his other hand reaching the door in preparation to open it.

"I think I found a spot for you. For later," Thomas quickly added, stopping Everett and breaking the silence.

Everett stopped. Both hands trailing away from his vehicle. He looked up at Thomas with a smile and nodded slightly. He slipped his hands back in his pocket and held them close to his body. The smile stayed on his face, but no words seemed to exit. His teeth clenching tighter together and his jaw stiff.

He didn't need him too elaborate, and luckily Thomas was smart enough to know that. It wasn't that Everett was trying to avoid it. There wasn't any possible way he could. Even if he wanted to. Maybe it was because a stranger was helping him? Perhaps it's that no matter what he did, it would always be hushed about, never explained, always just in passing. That it was his father's old acquaintance Who would be the one to help. Help him with himself. Help him with an illness. At what point does his condition become so ordinary that it no longer is a separate part of himself. When does it become his entire identity? At the end of the day, that's all Thomas knows him as.

Whatever the reason was, he was happy that Thomas didn't say much more and that they would talk about it later. Later, not now but later. Everett would take that advice. Think about it later.  
Thomas lifted his hand up slightly to say his goodbye before exiting as he entered through the front door. Leaving Everett alone. He stood silent for a moment, pushing his weight into the crunching gravel. So much so that he started to feel the sting of his leg, shooting warnings of little electric shots of pain. Pleading him to stop but Everett stayed grounded, his weight distributed equally determined to keep his balance.

How he would love to run right now. Runaway from all this. He would always do that when he was young, to escape the real world. When he was running, nothing else mattered but the destination. To him, there was no destination, not a real one at least.  
He thought it's best to just relax. It was his day off, after all. He turned back to his rusty little beat-up mess of a car, pulling the handle, but it didn't open. It was jammed again. He pulled again, but it refused to open.

"Locked yourself out?"

Everett swooped his head to the right. There stood Ash. His shoulders relaxed and his arms crossed. His hair was down and pushed back slightly. His face was bright and well-rested.

"No," Everett responded, he gave the handle one more tug, and it finally opened. "it just does that sometimes,"

Ash smiled, letting out a chuckle. Everett joined him with a smile. The two looked at each other, each waiting for the other to speak, Everett wondering if he should just hop in his car, but a part of him wanted to stay. Ash unfolded his arms, reaching up to brush back his hair that swept down on his face from a gust of warm salty wind. Using the sudden breeze as a prompt. He commented on the weather. Adding that it was going to be a hot day, which seemed to be the case. The sun had already burned off much of the hazy dawn. Gentle puffs of steam rolling off the tumbling ocean and into the bright air. The sun was large and round. Sitting perfectly in the cloudless sky.

This allowed Everett to step in, asking if Ash worked. He shook his head, adding that he was meeting someone, but got here early. His hand swung back over his shoulder, his thumb pointing back. He lived not far from here, and he walked. Ash looked up to the right of him, then back to Everett.  
"If you're free, I was about to grab a coffee," Ash said, inviting the other teen.

Everett looked back into his car. He jolted his arm down, reaching to his sun visor. Gently pulling it down, he grabbed the 20 dollar bill that was hidden away in case he needed gas or any other emergency. Coffee sounded like an emergency to him. Locking the door and slamming it closed, he made a mental note to replace it as soon as he could.  
The two strolled up the hill, pacing their steps, so there weren't left huffing when they made it to the top. Ash walked with long strides, but he stuttered slightly, painfully aware of his surroundings. It meant he walked slowly and tediously, like a wounded horse. It didn't take long for Everett to notice Ash's eyes peeking down. He was notably interested in how Everett was walking. Everett had a limp, it was subtle, and most times, people wouldn't notice when he walked in short bursts. Or Everett could just manage the pain enough to walk somewhat normally, but this method proved unfaithful most of the time. Everett stopped making up excuses when he saw someone had noticed, electing to only say anything if confronted first. He was just telling whoever asked that he broke his leg as a kid, and it never healed properly, not entirely false. Ash never did say anything. They just kept walking.

They pattered along the cracked sidewalk till they reached a little cafe. It was on the corner of the main street. Large clear windows looking in, just like the shop of Miss Whitman. Which only made sense since they were on the same road. It was a rather generic place. It had exposed brick on the outside with dark brown accents. Inside wasn't much different; there were fake dark wood floors and the same dark brown for the walls. It was decorated with artificial potted plants and framed stock images of typical coffee-related imagery.  
The good thing was that it wasn't crowded, so Everett and Ash made it to the front cash right away. Everett peered up at the menu above. He quickly got overwhelmed by the egregious amount of complicated ways to just say "coffee." The young teen at the front desk just stared at him as he tried to decode the menu. Everett looked over to Ash in hopes that he had any idea, but he wasn't looking at the menu. His focus was on the transparent display case, filled with pastries and a few bottled drinks.  
His eyes squinted as he scanned each perfectly presented muffin, croissant, and cookie.

"Are you going to grab something to eat?" Everett interrupted. Ash's eyes darted up to him, his face stern.

"I don't know what to get," he replied. Everett looked down at the case, seeing if there was anything that intrigued him. There were some good-looking blueberry muffins as well as an oatmeal banana nut one. But Ash wasn't looking at anything close to what Everett was. He instead was further down. His eyes jolted back and forth at a giant double chocolate chip cookie and an equally rich, fudge brownie.

"It's 8 o'clock in the morning," Everett added.

Ash nodded, "you're right; maybe I should get both,"

Everett just shook his head and smiled. At this point, the teen at the front cash looked annoyed. Everett taking it as he should order. After one more scan, Everett settled on an iced coffee with cream and sugar. He looked over to his side at a bowl full of fruit, all 50 cents. Examining it closely till Everett saw the bright sunny colour of an orange, gladly picking it. He turned back to Ash, standing off to the side, waiting for Everett to finish ordering.

"I'll buy," Everett said while stepping away slightly to let Ash in. Ash looked at Everett, hesitant at first but then promptly stepped forwards. He went with a regular black coffee, but with some space, and ended up with the brownie. After ordering, the two stepped aside to wait, but they didn't have to wait too long; their order came in a timely fashion.  
Ash quickly added a splash of milk into his coffee, followed by two packets of honey. Everett thought he grabbed them by mistake till he had squeezed them in.  
Everett was about to exit when he noticed Ash sit down at a table for two. It was right in front of the window. Ash gave Everett a look to sit down, which he did without complaining.

"I always come here, but it's nice to have company," Ash said while looking up at Everett. Everett furrowed his brow.

"you don't hit me as someone who enjoys company,"

Ash didn't say anything at first; instead, he glanced out the large window. Everett bit his tongue slightly, worried he had said the wrong thing.  
"I don't like all company," he corrected himself.

"Well, isn't that everyone" Everett agreed. He picked up the orange that sat beside him on the glossy table and took a hefty bite into it. Ash's eyes shot wide. Everett lifted his mouth away, using the spot he bit to start peeling. While still staring at Everett with wide eyes, Ash took a sip of his coffee, watching Everett's hands move around and under the orange peel.

"Why an orange?" Everett looked up from peeling.

"What?"

"Why do you like oranges?"

Everett looked back down, his eyes focusing on his thumb sliding under the thick puffy rind.  
"Because I like them," he replied. Ash's mouth pursed, his body close to the table.  
"Don't you find them cumbersome?"

"An orange?"

Ash nodded. Everett entirely stripping the peel off and tossing it to the side.  
"Maybe, if I think about it, but I don't think about it," Everett replied.

"Why's that?" Ash jumped in.

"Because I like them," Everett chuckled.

Ash nodded again, his upper body fully resting on the table. His hands were in front of him, crinkling the brown paper bag that housed his sweet. He paused for a moment before quickly opening it and lifting the brownie out.

"Do you not like oranges?" Everett asked while observing Ash. Ash lifted himself up again to meet Everett's eyes. The corner of the brownie close to his lips.  
"Too much effort for what they're worth."

At that moment, the door to the coffee shop opened, which wouldn't have been a big deal, but it was someone familiar. Amanda stumbled inside, her long chestnut hair windswept, and her face flushed red. She took a gulp before she slowly approached their table. She was holding her breath, desperately trying to not show she was obviously panting. Her eyes were manic, jumping from Ash then Everett. Ash peeked up at the clock above the menu, noting how it was already 8:30.  
Amanda brushed her hair back. Her hands then fell down and rested in front of herself, and she gently swayed. Everett tried his best to stay out of their conversation, though that can be hard when the people who are conversing are at the same table. He could hear them talking about some beach and that they had plans to go. The cars are all packed up, and everyone is ready to go.

Everett thought it's too bad since he was enjoying talking to someone, but at the same time, he thought it best to try to get settled in. He took another sip of his coffee, listening to the ice clinking as he swirled the straw around.

"what do you think?" Ash asked, turning back to Everett. He looked up, lifting his lips from the straw. Ash waited patiently while Amanda looked like she might pass out.  
Everett smiled. "yeah," he replied. Ash glanced back to Amanda, who was trying to hold onto her smile.

"Okay, we'll meet you there." He responded. Everett's face dropped, realizing what he agreed to and settling in wasn't part of it.


	7. A Flower Made of Stone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I hope you're enjoying it, thanks for all the support. Let me know what you think so far or any feedback.

Chapter 7, A Flower made of stone.

Ash was sitting casually on the passenger side. His arm was up and rested on the window, his leg pushed against the glove compartment. He was leaning back with his usual emotionless expression. Everett tried his best to keep his eyes on the road, but he couldn't help but find himself staring. Ash had a beautiful face, maybe beautiful wasn't the right word; intriguing or captivating might suit him better. So many people in Everett's life had such soft features. His father had an oval face, sandy coloured hair, and warm skin. They shared the same nose and had the same voice. People described it as welcoming at times. His mother had changed immensely; each year, she looks older; each year, she looks tired. But Everett shared her hair, auburn and fluffy, with soft curls flowing like gentle waves. Ash's contrasting raven hair and pale skin were shocking, and his sharp fox-like features made him appear cold and conniving. Maybe it was those qualities that made Everett excited to see him each time. Separately they may sound unattractive, but all together, they fit perfectly, along with his eyes. Drowsy and that deep evergreen colour, absolutely mesmerizing.

Ash flipped his head to the side, resting on his shoulder. Everett quickly darted his gaze out and to the ever-expanding winding road.

"you need to fix your stereo," Ash said in a monotone hum. Everett huffed.

"I don't mind the silence."

Ash rolled his head back, sinking into the headrest. The stereo was the first thing he asked about when they entered Everett's rusted tin can of a vehicle, and he almost looked offended when Everett explained that it had been broken for a while now.

"Don't you like to just relax?" Everett asked. Ash squinted his eyes and puckered his lips, his chunky boot thudding away on the dashboard.

"don't you like to sing?" He replied with a slight smirk. Everett scoffed slightly to Ash's annoyance; he leaned forward and lowered his feet to the ground.

"I'm being honest, I bet you have a nice voice,"

Everett's brow furrowed. As if he would actually sing in front of someone else, let alone Ash, the whole hypothetical situation seemed like a mess. Everett enjoyed just listening to the music, which he did really like, and if he had the money, he'd love to replace his stereo.

He turned his head to look at Ash, who wasn't making any sort of joking expression. His face was stern as he glared ahead. His profile was striking, his nose was long and straight and overall dominated his other sharp features. He was an odd one at times. Even this whole trip was strange. It was clear that Ash had plans with other people and Everett was clearly not invited. That's why they had to take Everett's car. There was only one seat left. He wasn't even sure what the day trip was about, something about a beach and a bonfire. The mention of alcohol was brought up, which Everett was unsure about. He hadn't been given any opportunity to drink in the past, and they both were close to 19, but they still were underage.

Everett just felt like he was intruding. Amanda looked almost devastated that Everett was going. She wasn't fond of him; well, Everett believed so. The way she looked at him reminded him of his mother. They always had something on their mind, but they chose to say nothing, which only amplified the initial heaviness.

They were taking the road opposite to where Everett used to live. The terrain around them was heavily forested with tall and tightly knit evergreens, with the odd patch of exposed jaded rock. The road was carved in, and had to abide by the land. It sometimes was like the ocean with waves that bumped up and down and other times like a stream that cascaded like running water. Everett kept himself grounded, sinking his body into his worn-out leather seat.

On the other hand, Ash was relatively carefree, every now and again closing his eyes, leaving Everett alone with the loud clunking of his jittery vehicle. They were driving for some time now, and when asking about how long it would take, Ash only replied with "a while". Luckily the road didn't merge to any side streets. It was a straight yet bumpy path forward.

Ash had opened his eyes. He looked around, examining the interior of the car. The rigid worn-out seats and brittle, broken cup holders definitely were a sight to see. That pared with the ever-controversial broken stereo, and sun-bleached dashboard just added to the whole aesthetic. Like an apple core that had been tossed on the sidewalk, discoloured, rubbery, chewed up, and with a distinct odor.

Ash pulled out some old map from the side tucked between the seat buckle and mangy cup holder. It was a map to the prairies, at least that's what it said, written with tacky block lettering. Perhaps it used to look clean and colourful but now It was browned and somewhat stained, ripped in a few places, and definitely had water damage. He took a peek inside, staring at it without much enthusiasm and closing the map not the way it had opened. His focus shifted to the glove compartment. Stuffing the crinkled map back and leaning forward. Ash fiddled with the latch a few times till it popped open, swinging down and jittering to a stop.

"What's this?" Ash asked, pushing past a few crumbled wrappers and old wadded-up recipes. He pulled out the little black notebook.

"Nothing important," Everett gritted through his teeth while adjusting his weight.

Ash began to flip through the pages, Everett darting to the book then the road.

"It's honestly not that interesting," Everett smiled. His brow was down and his hands clammy. His legs fidgeting slightly while he attempted to stay focused on the winding road ahead of him that seemed to be getting fuzzier with the sound of each page flipping.

"You make potions?"

"I don't" Everett quickly replied. He bit his lip, tugging himself closer to the steering wheel, fighting the urge to snap the notebook out of Ash's hands. His left hand twitched slightly, contemplating unrolling the window so he could toss the book out and be rid of it, but he couldn't conjure up the strength to lift even his index finger.

"it's not mine" Everett blurted out.

"Too bad, I wanted you to make me something" Ash shrugged, continuing to flip through the pages, stopping every now and again to read the quick blurb that was scribbled at the top of the page, and commented on how strange some of the ingredients were. His hands trailed to the piece of paper slipped in between two pages, roughly around the middle. Tugging on it slightly before opening it completely. Everett took a deep breath, exhaling with a slight quiver.

"There isn't a lot of info on this one" Ash trailed his fingered across the page and flipped to the next. His fingers stopped, slightly tapping down on the page a few times.

"Restriction potion?" Ash frowned, squinting his eyes and turning to Everett,

"Kinky."

"What!" Everett's eyes went large, and his teeth clenched. He snapped his head to Ash.

Ash let out a slight laugh, "I'm kidding," he continued to flip through, bypassing the bookmarked pages. Everett took slow breaths, taking a quick peek in the mirror at his red face and jittery eyes. He could practically see his heart pounding in his chest. After calming himself slightly, Everett directed his attention to Ash again.

"you believe in potions?" Everett asked softly, hiding the tremble in his throat. Ash lifted his gaze from the notebook, looking out at the road.

"I'd think I'd be a fool if I didn't," he responded calmly. He paused for a moment, still looking out. Till he lifted up his arm, his hand up.

His fingers were long but delicate. Soft but defined at the joints. They shared that same paleness as his face. They almost seemed regal, which surprised Everett since he knows Ash did labour at the docks. But perhaps the most important part wasn't his hands but what was on it, or instead what was on his finger: the large ring, a slate silver colour with a deep emerald gem. One of the most impressive rings Everett had ever seen, shaped into a bird that wrapped around with defined feathers and a complex expression.

"I believe in this," Ash said softly. His bright eyes seemed dull, and there was a weariness within his tone. Everett couldn't help but feel the presence of the ring, pushing deep within him. It didn't make him feel joy, but it also wasn't dreadful. It was a feeling that left Everett pondering its meaning. There was a heaviness that verged on hopelessness that carved a glittering tingle that left him breathless and craving its aura.

"Is it charmed?" Everett asked curiously. Ash nodded, slipping it close to himself.

"I don't have anything charmed; what was the spell?" Everett hopefully asked, but Ash just shrugged.

"It was my father's." He added. He was looking at it closely, his eyes following its pattern.

"And he won't tell you?"

"He's dead."

Everett bit his lip, clutching the steering wheel harder as he sunk deeper forward. Ash looked back up to Everett, who was grasping for the correct response.

Ash lifted himself up slightly, leaning towards the sweating teen.

"I didn't know him well, so it's all good, plus this ring wasn't even supposed to be mine." Ash gave Everett a smile. "I stole it from my mother when I left" he leaned back into his seat, "but why shouldn't it be mine?" His voice trailed off.

There would have been a silence if the engine wasn't radiating a loud clucking noise. Everett let out a huff, thinking he should really stop asking questions. This was the second time this week that he commented on a person he didn't know was dead.

In an attempt to lighten the mood and confess his sins, Everett let Ash know that he took the notebook from Thomas's office. Ash's eyes went wide, and he smiled a crooked grin. Everett demanded that he not say anything. Ash crossed his arms and sunk into the seat, promptly agreeing. They both shared a laugh. Ash told Everett that he wasn't surprised. The Miller's were known for their understanding of potions, crystals, and charms. All the magic that gets thrown to the side. Everett's mother was the sort to not believe them, thinking there were hoaxes that made a mockery of magic. His father was the same, but he was willing to suspend his disbelief, thinking that there's no harm in using them. Everett didn't know what he thought. He grew up with them being forced on him by his father. Drink this Potion, drink that one, then they would watch him with glazed-over eyes. Did they do anything? Maybe? It got to the point where everything just muddled together, leaving Everett in a state of demur.

"We should make a potion," Ash bluntly declared. Everett furrowed his brow.

"I don't think I can,"

"What do you mean, you have magic," Ash chuckled, shaking his head slightly at Everett's absurd response. Everett let out a sigh.

"I'm honest. I don't know much magic." Ash let out another laugh that quickly faded when he focused on Everett's dour expression. He smacked his lips a few times, still concentrated on Everett.

"But you released energy when you snapped your fingers, your soul was so present." Ash expressed. Everett shrugged, unsure what to tell him.

"a fun party trick," Everett chuckled.

"No," Ash interrupted, "if I can physically see your soul, that means you're at least a mid-level."

Ash's expression was stern, staring at Everett, waiting for a better explanation. However, after a minute or two of nothing, he turned his focus out. His eyes went wide, and his brow lifted.

"Pull over."

"What?"

"Pull over," Ash repeated.

Everett pulled over entirely to the side. Luckily there was an area that was slightly clear of trees. They came to a bumpy stop. Everett peeking around. It looked like a commonplace for people to pull over, and with further examination, he noticed a sign that indicated that this was the entrance to a hiking trail. Everett thought perhaps they made it to their destinations, but the way Ash was acting said otherwise. He opened the door quickly, jumping out and trudging to the driver's side. It took a few tugs, but he finally swung Everett's door open. Everett looked up, his hands still resting on the steering wheel.

"Come on." Ash demanded. He stood stiff, his feet correctly on the ground, his hand holding the door open, and his other in a fist at his hip. Everett went to speak, but Ash stopped him, stating that only Amanda wanted them there and the others could care less. Everett couldn't fight with that statement. Not knowing any of them, he took Ash's word. He unbuckled and slipped his way up and out. Ash didn't move when Everett exited the drivers' side, making it, so the two stood close together.

"Are you going to murder me?" Everett pouted. Ash rolled his eyes with a smirk, letting go of the car door and spinning around. He took a few steps forward, twisting his feet into the dry, gravelly dirt. He was scanning the large decrepit sign, weathered and beat down. Everett took a few steps forward as well, feeling himself teeter slightly. He was able to balance himself, using the help of the car door.

Ash seemed focused on reading the sign. A significantly large illustration of all the paths and routes to take. They were all displayed with bright colors and merging out from each other like a complex system of veins and arteries.

Everett went to close the door, noticing the black notebook Ash left out of the passenger side seat. He turned back, making sure Ash was still busy with the sign. Everett bent down, leaning his knee against the driver's side seat and grabbing the notebook, swiftly shoving it under the passenger's seat, making sure it wasn't visible before lifting himself back up. Everett gripped the car door, taking one last peek inside before promptly slamming the door closed.

At this point, Ash was done looking at the sign. And Everett shuffled his way to meet him. The air was cool, shadowed by the large fir trees that guarded the area. Ash made his way forward and into the woods, not even turning to Everett. The trail wasn't well paved. A thick layer of dirt blanketed the ground. It was bumpy, and rocks and sticks jutted out everywhere. The two spent most of the time with their eyes fixed to the ground, pacing their steps carefully.

They continued stumbling along for a while, the trail never getting better, but the trees did start to lay thinner. Ash didn't say much. He just focused on the course, turning his head slightly whenever there was another path that branched off, muttering something under his breath, then glaring back forward. Ash took full strides, now utterly unbothered by the uneven terrain. It meant Everett had to keep up, both watching his footing while keeping an eye on where he was heading.

Then, as if he was a hound that spotted a pheasant, he turned abruptly, sticking his nose forward.

"Here," Ash stated, looking out. Everett turned in the direction he was facing. He wasn't even sure it was a path. It was heavily forested with thick bushes. The ground was rocky and there looked to be a drop-off that led into a steep hill. Everett went to express concern, but Ash had already waded himself through the branches before he could. Everett went to follow, afraid to be left behind.

The first half wasn't too bad. A few sharp twigs scraped Everett slightly, but nothing he couldn't handle. The problem was with the drop-off, it was probably only around 5 feet down, but still, Everett knew his limits. A part of him just wanted to turn back. The front of his disheveled shoes hanging off the edge of the rocky ledge. Ash had made it down with no problem and was already making his way down the steep hill.

Everett placed his hand back, planting his palm on the side of a large fir tree. He took a deep breath, attempting to figure out the best way to land without hurting himself, more than he already was. His hand shifted up and down, feeling the rough bark, firm and grounded. Safe. He turned back slightly, moving away from the ledge and closer to the fir. He felt his feet dig deeper into the rocky path. His head was down, facing the ground, watching his feet as they rooted themselves. That's when a hand entered his vision.

Ash stood at the bottom of the ledge, looking up at Everett with a soft smile. His hand was up and out.

"Here, I'll help you," Ash extended his hand closer to Everett. Everett bit his bottom lip, his feet shifting back again. "Don't worry, I'll make it so you don't fall," Ash reassured.

Everett took a breath, extending his hand out to Ash till his fingertips gently brushed against him. Then slipping forward. Their fingers interlacing and their palms pressed together. Ash had warm hands, soft but slightly callused. Everett allowed himself to drop down. Instead of bracing himself, he let himself fall free, leaning on Ash, who was planted firm. 

Everett landed on the ground, bouncing up and unharmed. He let out a smile along with a chuckle, looking back at where he was a second ago and commenting on how the fall wasn't that bad. Ash's hand squeezed tighter, his grasp firm around Everett's. So much so that Everett turned back, meeting Ash's gaze that had been held on him. Ash's eyes were large, but the rest of his face was tense. The two holding eye contact for a moment before Ash's mouth gaped open slightly, and his eyes trailed away, quickly snapping his hand back.

He turned and started to make his way down. Everett followed, being careful as he stumbled his way to the bottom. At the bottom was another wall of bushes, but at this point, Everett was past caring. Ash had already gotten through, and Everett didn't flinch when he pushed past the twigs and branches.

Immediately he was met with warmth. The world around him was bright and clear, and the cold, damp air of the trail was replaced with a freshness. They made it into a clearing. Giant trees surrounding a wave of yellow grass, slightly bleached by the warm sun that sat perfectly above them.

"How did you know about this place?" Everett smiled big. Ash looked back and shrugged.

Everett couldn't help but laugh. Closing his eyes and lifting his head up to feel the warm sun against his face, gently flushing his cheeks a bright peach tone. Ash joined him for a moment.

"I'll take you to my house one of these days. It's like this but on the water," Ash stated softly.

Everett agreed, and as if they were both tall sunflowers, they took in the summer day. Till Ash turned back to Everett.

"Show me how much magic you know." Everett's eyes shot open.

"What?" He spat. Ash repeated himself.

Everett paused, shifting his feet in the grass. Everything now was a little bit clearer to him, though he wasn't sure what to do. Everett wasn't lying. He didn't know much magic. Perhaps this finally resonated with Ash, who bent down picking up a small stone and laid it flat in the palm of his hand.

"do you know how to perform any basic devices?" He asked. That's when the stone swiftly lifted in the air, a soft puff of blue trailing around it and his palm. Everett nodded. Ash swung his hand back and forward, tossing the stone mid-air. Everett quickly lifted his hands, stopping the stone before it hit him. The rock wobbled before lifting up. Twisting around Everett's hands was a soft blue flame, slightly darker than Ash's. Like a puff of smoke, it danced, twirling up to the stone and back to his hands. The concentration of energy that is used when performing any magic is referred to as the Soul.

Ash smiled, prompting him to demonstrate more of what he knew. Everett took a moment, concentrating on keeping the stone in the air. He shifted his weight and held his breath; a large flame trailed up from his palms and engulfed the stone entirely. It stayed in the blue flames for a moment, Everett squinting his eyes as he focused. The flames trailed off and down floated the head of a flower. It landed in Everett's palms. Ash smiling, the largest Everett had ever seen.

Everett frowned; he could never get the colour right. The flower was the same marbled blue-gray as the stone, slightly freckled with white. Ash observed the flower that sat perfectly in Everett's hands. Its many petals were stiff, holding its cup-like shape. It was a peony. Everett told Ash that it was his favourite flower.

"isn't it strange that something that looks so delicate can actually feel this heavy?" Everett chuckled.

"Of course, the properties are the same as the stone. It's just an illusion." Ash added.

"You know so much about magic, I'm jealous," Everett grinned as he closed the palm of his hands, encasing the flower inside. Ash's smile faded slightly.

"I grew up in a place that cared about magic a lot."

"that's good." Everett sang, opening up his hands to reveal the stone again. Ash's brow dropped.

"To a degree."

The two spent the next few hours working on Everett's magic. Luckily for Ash, Everett knew more than he led on to. Though it was apparent that Everett hadn't shaped any of the skills he possessed. Ash was able to do things Everett had never seen. Like teleporting objects from one place to the other, or dim or brighten the light around them. He also could lift and move more significant items and altogether held a higher caliber of magic. To Everett, it was terrific, but Ash knew he didn't know much compared to others. Which led Everett to wonder why Ash would leave a place that had taught him so much. What Everett would give to learn more about himself.

Like anything to do with energy, the two got tired out. This, paired with the warm sun, had caused both of them to feel flushed. They wanted to stay but knew that if they didn't leave, it would get dark while driving back home. That and the growling of their empty stomachs. They hiked back to the car, the trip feeling shorter. The car sat alone, waiting for their return.

Everett unlocked his door, leaning over to open the passenger's side. Ash hopped in, scooting into his seat to get comfortable. He smacked his lips a few times, leaning in to turn the stereo on, but quickly stopped himself.

"You need to replace this," Ash sighed, "but before you do that, replace those shoes of yours," he added, his tone joking but stern.

"yes, "Everett agreed. "I will; maybe I'll buy new ones for my birthday."

"birthday?" Ash prompted.

"Yeah, it's next Friday." Everett replied. He shifted the car into reverse, backing up to turn around, so they could be on their way back to Logwood Bay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the drama boat is going to be preparing to take off in the next chapter, please bring a lifejacket.


	8. Something to Say but Very Little to Speak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little longer of a chapter, thanks for the support, don't hesitate to ask anything or tell me what you think.

Chapter 8, Something to Say, but Very Little to Speak

Around him is black, alone, and empty. It's as if he's Floating, bobbing in an inky black sea. His limbs are tight to himself, desperate for a feeling, any feeling to communicate with himself that he is still, in fact, present. He knows he's alive. He can hear his heartbeat. Beating so rapidly that it causes static tremors that glide from his body and ripple on the thick slick surface. All his weight is pressed down, compressing himself, hoping to sink to the bottom, if there even is one. But he is buoyant. There is still life in this body of his. And when he holds his breath and feels himself slip away, he can't help but feel at peace. It is tempting. Every time it grows more and more tempting. Content that he is floating, and it scares him. It scares him to be in peace with this darkness.

Everett's eyes flickered open. He was staring down at his weathered little desk; it was tiny and awkwardly square. His knees pressed up against the top and rattled it slightly. On top was a small post-it note, a garish fluorescent yellow. "Meet me at 5," was haphazardly scribbled courtesy of Thomas. Everett had been eyeing the message all afternoon, ever since it appeared on his desk after lunch. It seemed to bring him back to the truth of his situation. Everett was enjoying pretending he never existed previous to coming to Logwood.

It had been a few days since Ash and himself were on that hiking trail. Life seemed new. His little room felt like home. The barren walls were comforting and the empty corners clean. He was even happy with work. It was repetitive, making the days short. Life had made a routine, and Everett wanted nothing more but to stay with it. Ash and Everett even grab coffee at lunch. Life seems good.

Everett looked down at the pile of papers that were neatly stacked beside him. He had finished sorting the second batch of documents and must have blanked out. Luckily it didn't look like Laura had noticed. She was still clattering away on her keyboard. There was another woman here today, one of the women he had seen previously. She was at a desk beside Laura, a little further back. She hadn't said much all day, but she seemed kind, greeting Everett when he came into work. She was younger than Laura, maybe in her early thirties, and appeared to be another humble resident of this little town.

At that moment, Laura stopped typing. She paused before spinning her big puffy chair around to greet the other two.  
"It's 4:15; I've finished everything. How about you two?" Laura glared up at the young woman, who smiled and nodded her head. She seemed above Laura's scare tactics. Laura nodded before darting over to Everett. Who, on the other hand, was not over Her scare tactics. She didn't even have to say anything to see that Everett had finished his daily work and some. She stood up, wiping her rattling keys and pushing in her chair with the side of her thin black high heel. Laura came into work today wearing a black wrap dress, fancier than she usually wears, along with her hair done and neat makeup. So it didn't shock Everett that they were leaving early. It was clear she had somewhere to be, and it was written all over her promptly puffy hair-sprayed hair.

All three made their way outside, and Laura wasted no time, clattering down the steps and sauntering to her car. Everett and the other woman stood by the door, watching as Laura speeded away.

"Let's hope this date goes well," the other woman chuckled. Everett turned to her, "you should have seen her after the divorce. Maybe this new guy will knock some sense into her." She added with a cheeky grin. She slipped her way down the steps, Everett still following her with his eyes. Till she turned completely around, flinging her hand up to wave goodbye before she made her way up the windy slope. 

Everett let out a smile, feeling the cool summer air, it was windy today, and a few clouds lay puffed in the soft blue sky. He made his way to the gravel, swishing his feet a few times to hear the crunching sound. He watched as his stained shoes swished, frayed at the laces, and in all honesty, should have been tossed a while ago. He was making his way to his car when a pair of sleek black trainers with bright blue socks entered his vision. Everett lifted his gaze, following the shoes to a couple of thin, tan legs up to their light washed short denim overalls and a baseball tee. Everett finally made his way to the face. Oval and a soft ivory color, bright rosy honey cheeks framed by long chocolate brown hair.

"Good afternoon, Amanda." Everett smiled. She didn't return the gesture.

She stood awkwardly, looking up and staring at Everett with upturned eyebrows.

"Am I bothering you?" She softly asked, her hands tucked behind her back. Everett shook his head, and she let off a faint smile. She was pretty. Everett thought so the first time he saw her. The problem was She was upstaged continuously by her friend. Jennifer was the kind of girl who made anyone look ten-times uglier than they were. The type of beautiful that scared Everett. On the other hand, Amanda was the kind of pretty that was subtle, and maybe that came down to how she presented herself. She had less confidence than Everett, and that was saying something.

"Are you looking for Ash? I don't think he's done work yet?" Everett expressed. Amanda shook her head, her soft straight hair tossing back and forth over her shoulders.  
"I know; I'm here to talk to you." She responded. she had a kind and sweet voice. It sounded like she sang when she talked, but it wasn't so high-pitched that it was nauseating. Everett was a slight bit confused, offering to sit, but she denied the proposal.  
"Would you date me?" She interjected.

"What?" Everett's eyes went large. He fumbled a little, swaying back and forth on what to say.

"not actually, like hypothetically, would you date me?" She corrected herself. Everett let out a tiny breath, still lost and unsure what to say. "like if you were a boy, and you knew me, would you like me." She added.

"I am a boy?"

"you didn't answer the question," she pouted.

Everett crossed his arms, the question felt like a trick one, and her desperate tone made him feel uncomfortable. All he could really tell her was that it was too personal. She seemed unpleased with this response, as her face went back to that soft expression. She kicked her foot in the gravel a little.

"has he ever talked about me or even mentioned me," she sheepishly asked. Everett pursed his lips, blinking a few times.

"Who?"

Amanda's face went red as she stared up at Everett, her eyes wide and her mouth tightly together. A look that made Everett feel embarrassed. He thought for a moment, Amanda's eyes still locked on him.

"Ash?"

"Yes?" A distant voice answered.

The two turned their head quickly to the side; standing about a meter or two away was Ash, cigarette in hand. He looked beat, messy hair that was up in a bun, and cold dead eyes. Amanda straightened up, her whole attitude changed, that sweet smile returned. It was short-lived, with Amanda's and Ash's dull conversation about work ending. Amanda let out a quick goodbye as she said she was running late. What for? That was a mystery to all. She left quickly. Leaving Everett still somewhat confused.   
Ash let out a huff, the smoke exiting his nose and mouth. The pale sun shining ribbons of gold on his sleek dark hair. He sunk deep into the gravel. His posture was loose and his shoulders down. He took a few steps closer, a distinct smell of salt, sweat, and fish. They made Ash clean the boats today without any heads up, and he'll be doing it all day tomorrow as well. Everett gave Ash a sympathy smile.

"Don't pity me, or I'll find a way to have you help tomorrow." Ash glared. Everett let out a chuckle at Ash's coldness. But he looked less interested in talking about his shitty day and instead about the scene that just took place. Everett filled the silent air with talk about the young fresh face girl. Ash didn't have too much to say about her that he hadn't already said. Amanda was a good friend if that's what it means to be good friends. She came by often to say hello. She talked about her day. He didn't mind, then Jennifer came around. Ash was kind of excited that Amanda had made friends, especially because she seemed alone. He was expecting her to stop hanging around, but instead, she would invite him to hang with them, Amanda, Jennifer, and a few others, that is. But just because they were her friends didn't mean they were his. He didn't like them. That's what he admitted. They don't see him as anything but the rumors that spread about him when he first showed up to Logwood.

Everett felt like he was holding onto a secret. Ash took one last puff of his cigarette, chuckling, telling Everett that he's happy he went with Him instead of the bonfire. Explaining how last time Jennifer's boyfriend, Dave wanted to fight him after getting too drunk, Ash refused, and they made it all the way back to Logwood, Dave still egging him on,  
Ash was drunk but not that drunk to know he couldn't win against a big guy like Dave. Dave was so pissed that he decided to punch a hole in the door.  
Ash dropped his cigarette on the gravel, crunching it with his boot.

"The dumbest part is I had to patch the hole up," Ash shook his head. Everett perked up.

"you know how to do that?" He leaned in towards Ash, who nodded his head.

"What if it was a fare-sized hole," he added.

"The dude's fist went through," Ash bluntly explained.

Everett nodded while Ash squinted his eyes,  
"did you punch a hole through your door?"

Everett turned to Ash quickly, a slight gasp, as he shook his head, fanning his hand back and forth. Ash let out a sigh.

"Ok, let's see it." Ash trudged over to Everett's car, his hand resting in the door handle, waiting to be let inside. Everett blushed, explaining that it wasn't the door or his fist, Ash just nodded. The two slipped into the car, Everett turning to Ash one last time, explaining that he didn't have to come to look at it right now, but Ash already had his seat buckle on.

Everett slipped the car in reverse, muttering to both himself and Ash that he didn't punch the door. Ash couldn't help but laugh. He reached into his pocket, pulling out another cigarette, lifting it so Everett could see. Everett nodded but barked at him to unroll the window. Ash did so as he lit the end with his lighter. Musty fog filling the car before trailing out the window.

"What did Amanda say to you?" Ash asked softly, the cigarette pressed against his parted lips. Everett let out a sigh, shrugging his shoulders. The smoke puffing out of Ash's nostrils as he sat back.

"What, did she ask you out or something?" Ash mocked. Everett's eyes went large, trying his best to keep his eyes on the road as he sternly denied the question. Everett could tell that Ash was picking up on the tension. He could feel him staring. His hand leaning out of the car window, the cigarette between his two fingers. The car had gotten quiet. The only sound was the rattling of the engine and the faint hiss of the broken stereo.

"What would you have said?" Ash interrupted the silence.

"What?"

"What would you have said if she did ask you out," he repeated more sternly. Ash looked from side to side till he found himself staring straight ahead, forcing a slight chuckle that didn't suit the atmosphere. Everett leaned back, sinking into his seat. His hands loose on the steering wheel. What would he have said? He wasn't too sure. She was pretty, and he was sure she had a good enough personality to hang with Ash of all people. He just didn't know Amanda, so his best guess was no, but what if she asked him later? What if they became friends first? What if he was in Ash's position? The thought made his body feel strange, like gliding down a steep slope.

"No," Everett gently replied. Ash nodded.

They pulled up to the curve, both of them slipping out of the car. Ash looked up at the old building, no sign to the little shop, just 1616 written in bronze. Everett wasted no time, opening the glass door and holding it open for the other teen. They entered. The lights were slightly dim, and the room just as crowded. Everett knew there was a possibility that Miss Whitman was around, and after their first interaction, Everett thought it best to avoid her, which he had successfully done so far. Everett was almost to the back door when he noticed someone wasn't behind him. He peeked back before fully turning around. Ash was bent down, squatting; he was petting the small gray cat. He was close to him, rubbing her cheek against his leg. Everett took a deep breath, slumping over to the two. Karma immediately peered up, her eyes a deep golden buzz that was turning Everett to stone.  
Ash ran his hands from Karma's head to her tail, but she was preoccupied with giving death glares. Ash snickered, regurgitating the same thing everyone told him. How ironic that cats don't like him. Like it was Everett's choice, but even though it was annoying, he couldn't help but laugh. A few thuds came from behind the two, down from the stairs' steps till they reached the bottom, tapping to a stop. The two turned around. Standing in front of the back door was Miss Whitman. Small and slender, and wearing a crinkled sneer. Ash lifted himself.

"Karma likes very few, so think yourself lucky," she turned to Everett, "but she hates many less." Everett gulped slightly before letting out a faint hello; Ash was unbothered.   
Standing with a slight lean as he darted his eyes around the crowded mess of the store floor. Everett stood, hoping to leave, but Ash had left his side by this time, wandering around.

Miss Whitman hobbled over like a creeping ballerina. All her jewelry twinkling together with each step. She had a sour expression that screamed every negative affirmation. She stood relatively close before sweeping down and gently scooping up the gray cat. She sat as she always did, with a regal pose, just this time in the arms of her owner. Karma had never stopped glaring at Everett. Her head seemed to stay in place as Miss Whitman moved around. However, Miss Whitman didn't seem interested in Everett, quickly shifting her body and focus across the room.

There was Ash in the back corner. It was a part of the shop that Everett hadn't noticed very well before. It was more crowded than anywhere else. Large Velvety sheets in deep Merlots and emerald greens hung loosely around. Pillows littered the counters and floors, decorated with large and small stones. Shining and reflecting dazzling light from their sharp surfaces. Mirrors lay upright toward a small table. If you could call it a table, it was more like three stools, with one slightly larger stool in the middle. On top was a giant glass orb, a pale clear colour, shining teal from one angle and pink from the other. Ash was staring down, his focus on the group of crystals around the giant orb.

"Are you a healer?" Ash asked. He was examining a shard of clear quartz. Miss Whitman took a few steps forward, closer to Ash, and Everett did the same, pacing behind her slowly. Karma jumped from the woman's hands to her shoulders, resting like a pelt.

"I don't care about others misfortune," The older woman huffed. Ash shook his head, still examining the large stone. He had a face that screams "bull shit." An expression that only amplified when he turned to greet the older woman's haunting stare. She cleared her voice, getting relatively close to the dark-haired teen. "I do what the universe tells me." She hissed, her words trailing into the chiming of the stones.

Miss Whitman snapped her hand forward, but not to the gem, instead to Ash's hand. Everett's eyes went wide, fearing that he would need to break up this confrontation. Miss Whitman gripped tight on Ash's hand with the stone in it, and turned it over slightly, till his ring was present. Her eyes trailed around, following the concaves of the tiny green gem in the eye of the delicately designed silver bird.

"Beautiful but how unfortunate," her face was dull, "such a magnificent stone, pure with love and truth, degraded with such a self-serving charm." Ash flicked his hand away, peering up at the woman. She let out a smile. "must be heavy."

The two glared at each other, Ash gently laying down the stone again. Miss Whitman circled around, sitting on one of the stools, her ring fingers trailing around the top of the giant orb.

"it's good to see someone who appreciates crystals; most people just trudge through them without picking them back up." Her glare darted over to Everett.  
Everett swung his head down, averting his gaze, his hands resting firmly in the side pockets of his loose corduroy jacket. He was standing a few steps back, watching as Miss Whitman continued to gently caressed the top of the orb. Light flickers of swirling colour were spinning inside, glaring beams that trailed out and into the air. Entrancing Everett, he squeaked forward. Unable to rip his gaze away, as if he was a fish attracted to the hazy green glow of lights laying low in the murky water. Ash didn't seem to impress his face leaning down and more focused on his hand resting on the corner of the small table.  
The two stayed quiet, and when Miss Whitman beckoned them to sit, Everett did so without any hesitation. On the other hand, Ash took a few pauses before inching his way down, sitting close to the edge of the stool. His feet were firm on the ground, and his body stiff and forward. Everett shook his head, finally able to pull his eyes away. It felt familiar, but not. He couldn't stop staring, pulling him in and fogging his mind. Manipulation, that's what Ash cursed. Ash accused Miss Whitman of manipulation. She laughed a high crinkly cackle at his accusation, her long wrinkled fingers lifting up before softly gliding down. She reached for something on the table, but the two couldn't see before both of her closed fists wrapped around whatever it was.

Everett was still trapped in the daze of the dim lights and bright flashes. Her grin was cold and didn't suit her sour face.  
"Clear your mind, let yourself breathe," her voice hissed; Everett's eyes felt heavy, the room dimmer, and a hazy blue glow crept in his vision. "Only what your mind wants you to see will show."

Ash looked like a smudged, blurry fragment of what he used to be. Everett's hands lifting without even thinking. It just felt right. Ash was mimicking him, but every inch closer meant the world lost focus. His hands softly laying flush on the cold, perfectly smooth surface.

Everett's eyes darted open, everything was black for a moment, before a flood of bright colours rushed past him, speeding as if he was in the car, but it was just him. He was standing in nothing; blackness was above and below him. The colours crackled and popped, hissing past him like vibrant fireworks. They were close to him, not even an arm's length away, but when Everett went to move, he lay still. His body was held in place. A slight panic as he tried to turn himself around, but by doing that, all he felt was something slam against his back, hard and pressing against his spine, then his feet started to slip to a rested position, he felt nothing underneath him. Was he falling? He tightly closed his eyes, his fingers twitching till he gathered enough strength to swing them out and to the side of him, gripping back.

He felt a warm softness flutter his skin, a soft paper texture between his fingers, and tickling his nape. A sensation that couldn't be forgotten. Everett's eyes shot open, above him the most gorgeous sunset, puffy gray clouds in a sea of violet and amber. He lifted himself slightly. He was lying on his back, his hands gripping onto the long blades of grass. A light yellowish-green, gently sun-bleached at the tips. There was still darkness in the air, a navy that smudges across the brilliant horizon, and the realization that Everett was, in fact, wrong. This wasn't a sunset but rather a sunrise.  
He lifted himself entirely up, sitting down in the ever-expanding sea of grass. There were no mountains; there was no end, just a soft wash of green that reflected the hazy morning. But something more dazzling was what lay nestled between the blades. Large full blooming peonies. Delicate orange petals flowing like the finest of silk. A precious crown of ribbons, Everett couldn't help but smile. The sweet scent entered his nostrils, trailing down and into a sparkling citrus sting. There was no breeze. The air was cool but not chilly.   
When he stood up, he felt the earth, its strength, its safety. He was aware of every part of himself, and he wasn't in pain. He was free. He could jump and scream and twirl. He could run. Run forever. Runaway, and never look back, leave everything that hurts, that sting inside that was a barren void.  
He went to leap to soar across the rows of grass when he heard something. Soft at first, like a chime, like something falling and hitting the hard floor. There was a woman's voice, yet Everett couldn't make it out. She had the most mesmerizing voice, sharp but stern. Who was she? he thought. She's apologizing. Why is she apologizing? Yet in the same breath, she's cursing, "a failure," she spits. Everett knew this smell; it smells like blood, a hint of smoke, a touch of sulfur. "A coward," she echoes, "I loved you," she shrieks. It's overlapped with more muffled sounds. It's overtaking. He needs to leave, and he needs to run.   
"Everett?"  
Everett quickly shot his head over his shoulders, twisting slightly so he could turn behind him. It was Ash, or Everett believed so.

"It's me, if you're wondering," Ash replied as if he could read Everett's mind. His voice was calm but shaky. He looked around, his hands lay limp in his Jean pockets.

"Is this a memory?" He asked, his gaze darted out. Everett shook his head.

"A fantasy, maybe?" Everett smiled.

"better than mine, I'll tell you that," Ash chuckled. Everett darted his gaze back.

"How does Miss Whitman know?"

"She doesn't," Ash quickly replied. "she can escort us here," he added.

Everett turned back, peering into the hazy morning. Looking out at the field that traveled on forever.  
"let's go explore," Everett grinned, still watching the still blades of grass and beautiful flowers.

"What about the hole?" Ash curiously asked.

"what about it," Everett responded. Ash said nothing. He was still, and his breaths were amplified by the quietness. "It'll always be there, even when it's patched up, so why does it matter," Everett continued, his voice seemed to trail away.

"do you believe that?" Ash asked softly. Everett bit his lip slightly, his brow furrowed.

"It doesn't matter, just run with me, Ash, let's run" Everett flipped back to meet Ash again. The most enormous smile he had ever made in his life planted on his warm face, his puffy hair bouncing as he twisted around.

Ash stood still, his heart practically beating out of his chest. His eyes were large, glassy, and staring at Everett with a deep intensity that tears virtually formed. His mouth was open slightly, teeth clenched. He was pale, almost colourless. It was a face Everett had never seen before, and as fast as Ash demonstrated it, he also got rid of it, tucking his head down. Everett went to follow his gaze. Below them, the peonies pulsed like a heartbeat, opening, and closing. Everett glanced up.

"Ash?"

"I'm sorry, Everett, I need to go," he spat through his teeth. Everett reached his hand out, but as soon as he did, Ash was gone. Everett was alone. The sky got dull, dark even. All the golden hues vanished. The flowers darted closed. Everett squeezed his eyes shut.

He opened them with a deep breath. The small table's dark wood sat in front of him, a thin purple silk cloth and a plush pillow with the giant orb. Everett peered up to Ash, who was standing. His stool was on the ground, knocked over. He didn't say anything. He quickly darted away, moving swiftly through the clutter.

"Ash?" Everett cried. He quickly jolted up. A deep stinging pain rushing in his upper thigh that had him stumble slightly. Everett leaned down, gripping just above his knee. He bit his tongue hard to not curse. The door slammed closed, and just like that, Ash was gone.

Miss Whitman let out a sigh, opening her palms to reveal two black stones. The one closer to Everett was shattered, while the one in her hand closest to Ash was intact.  
"Interesting," she whispered to herself. 

The door creaked open, Everett swinging in hopes to see Ash again, but instead, it was the stern, earnest expression of Thomas.  
"crap, what time is it?" Everett spat.

"it's just past 5:20," Thomas replied.

Everett apologized, but Thomas lifted his large hand, creased and scuffed from the day's work.

"The truck’s still running, you good to go now?" Everett nodded, lifting himself softly. He took a deep breath before limping his way across the room to meet Thomas.


End file.
